


Faking It

by EverytimeIDoSomethingStupid (kingkongkitty)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sexy Times, also there's quite a bit of alcohol, and miscommuniation, i had so much fun writing this btw, most of the bristol yogs pop up at some point, one bed, smornby, two nerds, whatever will happen?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 29,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkongkitty/pseuds/EverytimeIDoSomethingStupid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Smith's parents travel down to Bristol to spend a bit more time with him, it's only natural that he asks his best friend to come and live with him so he has some sort of distraction from his homophobic mother.<br/>(aka oblivious boys with cute interactions)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spill!

It was late in the evening, nearing half eleven, and Ross was just about ready to call it a day. Trials had finally been edited and finished processing, and all he wanted was a cup of tea and bed. He shut down his computer, blinking in relief when the eerie blue glow given off from the screen stopped. It always creeped him out slightly, working at night when the office was dark and the only light source was the LED screens.

Ross hung up his headphones and stood slowly, feeling the stiffness in his muscles from where he’d been slumped over in his chair. Navigating his way round the stacked boxes of sweets they’d been sent and the guns strewn everywhere from a video this morning, he made his way to the door. “Ross?”

The door opened right in Ross’ face, almost slamming into him. “Oi! You twat!”

Smith came in, a shame-faced grin on his face as he caught the door on his back foot, propping it open just a few inches. “Sorry mate, didn’t see you there.”

“It’s fine.” Ross grinned at him, instantly forgiving him. “Now, what do you want?”

Ross was surprised to see Smith’s cheeks, half hidden as they were with stubble, flush with colour. “Well… Um…” Ross his grin behind his hand, finding a flustered Smith even cuter than usual. “I needed to ask a favour…”

“Go on, then.” Ross wiggled his eyebrows at Smith, poking his tongue out when the taller man went even redder.

“Will you come and live with me?” He spoke garbledly, rushing the words out as quickly as he could. It took Ross a few seconds to decode the flustered jumble.

“Um…” Instantly Ross’ cheeks flushed as his mind began to run through the implications, filling with fantasies he only indulged in alone, of Smith grabbing him, pulling him closer. Ross shook his head quickly to dispel the thought. “Aren’t you at least going to buy me a drink first?” He teased.

In his head, Smith was kissing him, his rough stubble at juxtaposition to his soft lips. Ross tried to focus on the reality of Smith looking down, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s not for that…It’s my parents. They’re coming round for a month.”

Ross had met Smith’s parents exactly once, and he hated them. They were complete awful, treating Smith like dirt on their shoes. Now that he thought about it, they probably treated the dirt with more respect. His mother was a prim, proper lady, shrivelled like a prune, topped with permed ginger hair. In contrast, his father was a huge, vulgar man who looked like he’d had all the colour sucked out of him, from his bone-white hair to his pale, almost white eyes.

“Can’t you find a way to keep them away?” Ross was well aware of his cheeks glowing as his imagination took him further, to Smith urging him to speed up as they writhed together in the dark.

“No. They’re arriving next week, and I just really need someone to stay with me, so they can’t get to me as much.” Smith’s eyes were full of pain, pain that Ross knew all too well. It was roughly the time they’d met that Smith had come out to his parents. Three day later he’d moved in with Ross and Trott, with only a suitcase and tears in his eyes.

“Right, I’ll do it.” What was the worst that could happen, living for a month with a man whom he loved? With a little luck, he might even be able to put his feelings to rest and get over the 6”5 dork. Even now, with his mind full of explicit fantasies of himself and Smith, Ross assumed he was straight. He couldn’t understand why Smith would not leave his brain, or why whenever they touched, his heart skipped a beat.

“You will!” Smith’s eyes flared with hope, his grin brightening a fraction more.

“Course I will, mate! It’s what friends are for!” Smith pulled Ross into a quick hug, then waved him goodbye. Slightly in shock at the unusual contact, Ross watched the taller man walk down the hall, even as the image of Smith, plastered to his back as the afterglow faded sunk itself into his memory.

Smith turned round at the end of the hall, grinning at Ross. Now his embarrassment had faded, he was back to his usual perky self. “Oh, and there’s only one bed, so you’d better not snore!”

His cheeks and ears burning, Ross ducked into the kitchen, groaning in despair as he came chest to face with Kim, her eyes bright with humour and intrigue. “Spill!”


	2. Moving In

Smith was kissing him passionately, plastering slobbery kisses all over his face and neck. Ross smiled, wrapping his arms tighter around the ginger’s neck. Pausing in shock at just how hairy Smith was, Ross cracked an eye open. A golden fluff ball greeted him with another long lick across the face.

“Oscar! Ok, I’m up.” Grinning at his overly affectionate pet, Ross briefly scratched him between the ears, watching as Oscar’s eyes slowly closed to half crescents. “Come on boy! Let’s get breakfast and go.”

—

The day had arrived. A little after 11 am, Ross stood outside Smith’s house clutching his suitcase. Oscar ran joyfully round his ankles. He hadn’t bought a lot of stuff. After all he could always nip back home and grab a few more t-shirts later, or borrow some of Smith’s.

He knocked on the door a few times, waiting as he heard footsteps downstairs through the door. Smith opened the door quickly, his hair floofy and crumpled from sleep, his burgundy hoodie thrown on over what were evidently his pyjamas. “Mornin’”

“Hey, sleepyhead.” The grin spread effortlessly across his face at Smith’s crumpled state as Oscar launched at him.

Struggling with an armful of dog, Smith smiled. “Come on in. I’ll stick the kettle on while you unpack.” Carefully, he carried Oscar through the house, wincing when an overly enthusiastic tail wag knocked a figurine from his shelves.

Ross unpacked quickly, throwing all his clothes and a sleeping bag into a space cleared in the closet. He smiled at the almost endless line of tan chinos and burgundy polo tops, occasionally broken up with a pair of jeans or a chequered shirt. It seemed Smith hadn’t branched out his clothing style much over the past three years.

Smith’d also cleared a few drawers in the bedside cupboard for him. Ross’ cheeks flamed when he accidentally discovered the lube drawer, glad for the mercy he was alone when he found it. If Smith’d been there, the teasing would’ve been merciless.

Smith had cleaned up and they were both sat at the kitchen table drinking tea when a silver porche pulled up in the drive. Smith reluctantly stood up, making his way to the door to welcome his parents into the house. Ross gave him a pat on the way past, silently wishing him luck.

In the second she crossed the threshold, a string of complains burst from the old prune. In one breath she criticized the curtain colour, Smith’s dress sense and mentioned the ‘rent boy’ waiting in the kitchen. Ross bristled and made his way through to the hall, standing beside Smith in a silent show of solidarity with the estranged man.

“Good morning, Beatrice, Peter.” Ross fought to keep his tone pleasant, smiling at the intruders as he grabbed Smith’s hand, giving him a quick squeeze.

“And who are you?” The prune glared at him, staring disgustedly even at the minimal contact the two men had.

“I’m Ross.” He grinned sheepishly, forcing himself not to think of other, more pleasant things he could be doing. Like cleaning the toilet. Or walking in a sewer.

“And who are you to our…” Her mouth curled in distaste, “…Our son.”

Smith glanced nervously at Ross, panic shining dully in his eyes. “I’m just…” Ross coughed, his mind running a mile a minute. Ross felt Smith stiffen, could feel his heart rate rocket in anxiety. Bluffing wildly, he laughed, wrapping his arm round Smith’s waist and pulling him into a sideways hug. “I’m his…”

Ross rested his head on Smith’s shoulder, nuzzling him behind the ear, buying himself a little thinking time. Well, he might as well do this properly. ““I’m his… boyfriend?” Smith’s eyes instantly calmed, the tumulus blue shifting to a more relaxed gleam. Taking Smith’s behavioural cue, Ross instantly felt far more secure with his bluffed statement. “Yeah, his boyfriend.” Smith sagged in relief. Ross quickly pressed a kiss on Smith’s cheek, the stubble scratchy, yet not entirely unpleasant.

As he stifled a laugh at how wide Smith’s eyes had become, Ross tried to ignore the way the prune’s nose wrinkled in disgust, or the vulgar things she began to mutter. Instead he forced a smile and initiated some small talk, beginning with asking her if she wanted tea.

—

Ross was exhausted, and it was only the first day. Smith’s mum had nagged about everything and anything, from a single dog hair to the loo roll facing the ‘wrong’ way. He’d been kept busy fulfilling all these petty demands while trying to keep Smith in view. Since this morning, the only contact they’d had was eye. They’d barely spoken. Whenever they’d tried Smith’s mum drowned them out, talking over them about other little niggles.

He followed Smith upstairs and into his room, Oscar running before him. The second they were in, Smith shut the door and locked it. “What’s that for?”

“My parents. I don’t want them coming in on us. “

Smith began stripping down, just chucking his clothes into a crumpled pile on the floor. Ross quickly followed suit, facing the opposite wall and folding his clothes neatly. He set them on Smith’s dresser, avoiding the stacks of Pokémon cards and computing magazines. He was just reaching for his pajamas when there was a knock on the door.

“Oh, for fucks sake…”

Smith opened the door in just his boxers irritably. “What do you want?” He asked coldly. The prunes’ head poked round the door, eyes widening in shock as she saw Ross on the same state of undress.

“Your father and I have been talking and we want you to know… You are not to have…” The prune hesitated for a second, mulling over her words. “…‘relations’ while we are in the house.”

Smith's’ eyes had gone dark, the usual joyous blue now dark and stormy. “Fine. Whatever. Now get out.” The joking tone he’d maintained all day had gone, his voice flat. The prune sighed loudly; tutting at the disrespect then left the room. Smith slammed the door behind her, sighing loudly.

He swung away from the door, an old pain reappearing in his eyes. He ran his hands nervously through his hair, pain in his eyes. “I’ve barely managed a day. How can I cope for a month?”

“You’ll be fine. I’m not going to leave you with them.” Ross walked over to him, pulling the taller man into a hug. Smith eased into him instantly as Ross supported him. “We’ll be fine.”

The two men moved to sit on the bed, the spring creaking a little under their combined weight. “I’ve been thinking…” Smith’s cheeks flushed little as he rolled the words round his mouth, seeming reluctant to finish his question.

“Yeah.” Eventually, Ross nudged his shoulder, promoting him to continue.

Smith spoke in a rush, as his cheeks flamed a little more. “How are we meant to act around each other?” Ross’ hand slowed, the circles he was rubbing into Smith’s back stopping as he pondered the question.

“Whadda you mean?” He glanced at the auburn haired man in surprise, wondering what had caused such an abrupt question

“Well it’s just, you told my parent we are going out and I just…”

Ross’ cheeks went slightly redder as he suddenly begun to second-guess his actions. “I’m sorry! Should I not have said that?”

“No no no!” Smith huffed a laugh. “It makes perfect sense but I was just wondering… thinking… if it’d be ok to just… randomly hug you on the way past or something?” Smith looked up at Ross imploringly with those big blue eyes of his. “Would you be ok with that?”

Ross tried to wrap his head around this. “So you want to set boundaries? Like hugs and hand holding?” This conversation felt almost surreal, something a weird dream would conjure up.

“And kisses…” Smith winked at Ross. The (slightly) smaller man was suddenly very interested in the bed cover. “What! You’re the one who said we’re dating!”

“Yeah, but that was just to see how the prune reacted!” Ross could hear the lie in his voice, and just hoped Smith wouldn’t pick up on it. His reason for kissing Smith had been entirely selfish. “And it wasn’t a proper kiss just a peck!” He protested when Smith’s grin just grew wider.

“Well, you know me, lapping up all the attention I can get. I’m not adverse to pecks, as you call them…or someone grabbing my ass occasionally.” Smith met Ross’ eyes, attempting to wink voluptuously at him. Ross groaned, burying his head in the duvet.

“For fuck’s sake, I knew that was a mistake.”

Smith just threw his head back and laughed at Ross’ discomfort as he lay in a small heap of embarrassment. “Fuck off, Smith.”

“Ah mate,” Smith smoothed his hand across Ross’ waist comfortingly, “I’m just messing with ya.” Ross just huffed. “Do you want to try it out?”

“Try what out?” Ross refused to look up, breathing in the lemony scent of the bedding as his cheeks slowly cooled off.

“Well, I mean hugging, or something”

That got his attention. “Smith! No! We’re practically naked!” Ross tried to ignore the inner voice telling him to take this opportunity by the horns.

“We’ve got boxers on!”

“And that somehow makes everything better?”

They sat there in an awkward silence, Smith’s proposition still standing, hanging and waiting for Ross to either give him a yay or nay. As much as he wanted too, Ross couldn’t accept the proposition, yet couldn’t deny it either.

Eventually Ross began to get cold. He pushed Smith off him and stood quickly, almost tripping over his own feet. He delved into Smith’s wardrobe, grabbing a pair of his pajamas. Behind him, he could hear the bed creaking as Smith got up, no doubt to pull a shirt on.

As he bent to pull on the plaid bottoms, a warm something draped itself over him. Ross straightened quickly, shocked, his heart rate rocketing. A solid chest pressed itself to his back, strong arms encircling him. Involuntarily sinking back into the warmth, Ross let out a little sigh. Smith huffed, a self-satisfied sound and hooked his chin over Ross’ shoulder, his beard rubbing the junction between neck and shoulder. After a few seconds, Smith pulled away again. “See, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Ross yanked his pajama top over his head quickly. “Twat.” But the smile he offered belied all hostility. He grabbed the sleeping bag out of the wardrobe, and began to loosen the chords.

“Ross, no.”

“What?”

Smith gave his a disapproving glance from the bed. “You are not sleeping on the floor. You’ll do your back in. Get in bed.”

“Nah mate, I’ll sleep with Oscar.” Smith gave him a disbelieving look, but knowing better than to argue with a determined Ross, instantly gave up.

“Are you sure? I can get you a camping mat?”

Ross was touched by his unnecessary concern. “I’ll be fine! Look.” He pulled a camping bed from under Smith’s bed, giving him a shit-eating grin. I came prepared.”

Throwing the mat up quickly, Ross crawled under the covers. Looking at up Smith from the floor, he smiled at him sleepily. Smith gave him a little grin. “Right, we need to make a plan of action for tomorrow morning.”


	3. Picnics and Movies

Ross woke with a groan, the camping bed digging into his spine uncomfortably. He shifted, easing his back out of the metal grooves. His feet hung over the edge of the bed, and his shoulders were too broad for the narrow frame, but in spite of this it’d been a decent night’s sleep. A glance at the clock told him it was 6:30, far earlier than he’d normally wake (about 10:00).

Glancing around the room, Ross caught Oscar’s eye, and beckoned the dog over. He padded over almost silently, before lunging straight for Ross. Ross muffled his laugh into the golden ruff and let Oscar paw his way onto his chest. Quickly giving into dog worship, Ross lay on his back and lavished Oscar with attention, getting the occasional slobbery kiss for his efforts.

Smith eventually woke up when Oscar rolled onto his back for a tummy rub, and promptly fell off Ross’ chest, barking loudly as he did so. The look of shock passing the ginger’s face as he woke with a start was priceless, making Ross wish he’d had a camera to hand.

He made do with grinning at Smith as he blinked owlishly and got his bearings. The taller man smiled sleepily across at him from the bed. “Good nights sleep?”

“Yeah. You?” Ross watched as Smith rubbed his hand across his face, clearing the sleep from his eyes.

“It was alright. Have you been up long?”

“Not really.” Ross smiled internally at his concern. “I’m might get up now though, this bed is a little too small.”

He snuggled further into the sleeping bag, before steeling his resolve and getting up. He quickly folded the camp bed back up and slid it into its hiding place, then stuffed the sleeping bag into its sheath, glad it went in the first go. Stashing it in the wardrobe, he turned to find Smith being slobbered on by Oscar.

“You ok there?”

Smith’s head popped out of the small mountain of fur. “Never better mate. Come and join in!”

That was all the invitation Ross needed, quickly climbing onto the other side of the bed, sandwiching Oscar between the two of them and once again spoiling him with attention, even as his eyes drooped with sleep.

—

Sunbeams danced across Ross’ face, permeating his eyelids and waking him groggily. Lazily opening his eyes, he came face to face with Smith. The sound he made was not human as he scrambled back in shock, falling off the edge of the bed and landing with a hefty thud.

Smith sat up quickly, jolting awake. An easy grin spread across his face as he saw Ross sprawled inelegantly on the floor. He sat up, looking down at the dark haired man with some concern. “You ok mate?”

Ross was very aware that he was blushing. “Yeah” It was mainly his pride that hurt, not his body.

His care duties done for, now he knew Ross wasn’t seriously hurt, Smith lost interest, more concerned with sleep. “Cool.” He rolled over and promptly his breathing regulated into deep, even breaths.

Ross slowly got up from the floor, quickly shaking his limbs to check for any damage. Nothing hurt too badly, just a few twinges, so he might have gotten away with only – if any - a few bruises. He rolled his shoulders, feeling his back crack, and glanced at the clock. 9:30.

“Smith…” Ross grabbed the taller man by the shoulder and shook him gently, increasing the force of the shakes as the auburn haired man refused to wake. Eventually, his eyes opened. “Up, sleeping beauty.”

Smith just smirked at him crookedly, slowly sitting up. “Help me make the bed?”

“Fine.” The two of them shook the covers out, and then smoothed them over the bed. Smith arranged the pillows as Ross fended Oscar away from the neat bed. The two of them quickly changed, once again facing opposite walls, then took turns to clean their teeth and wash. When they were both ready, they headed downstairs together, Smith nervously entwining their fingers together, unnoticing of Ross’ sharp inhale.

—

Ross stood at the stove, flipping bacon while Smith cracked eggs into another pan. “Keep an eye on that for me?”

“Will do.” Smith moved around, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge, pouring four tall glasses and taking them to the table. Through the peace of the kitchen, the telltale squeak of the bottom step was loud. Ross glanced at him, gesturing for him to come over.

Smith came back into the kitchen, awkwardly looping an arm round Ross’ waist and leaning into him. Ross gave a little hum, begging his heart rate to slow down as he rested his head carefully on the messy auburn curls. As he was watching the bacon and waiting for the optimum crispiness, Smith’s parents noisily made their way into the kitchen. Smith’s mum instantly yelled at them for being so ‘touchy-feely’. Smith shied away, immediately wishing he could wrap his arms back around Ross (for comfort, he told himself) as he poured his parents tea.

Ross transferred the contents of the pan onto a large plate and brought it to the table, sliding it in the middle of the table. Already, the prune was complaining at the lack of smooth orange juice. Well, there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. May as well just let her grumble to herself.

Ross slid into the chair next to Smith, grabbing a slice of bread to make a sandwich with. Smith grabbed the ketchup, and Ross held his bread out for him to stick some sauce on. He did one better, and stuck on a slice of bacon too. “Cheers mate.”

They chatted between themselves, trying to include Beatrice and Peter as much as possible, staying to relatively neutral ground. The conversation may have been a little stilted, but it was close to pleasant.

—

The morning passed surprisingly quickly, with Beatrice and Peter cooing over Oscar for the majority of the time, keeping them out of both Smith and Ross’ hair for a while. Ross almost wished he’d bought Archie too, but reminded himself how pleased Kim was to be looking after him. Still, he missed the reddish coat and constant yipping.

The two men schemed as Smith’s parents were distracted, planning specific maneuvers to keep boundaries yet convince Smith’s parents they were in love. (Not that he had to pretend, thought Ross bitterly)

“Right, so if I wink three times…” Smith moved closer to Ross, slipping his hands round his waist and dipping him back. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah! That’s fine!” Shit. Did he sound too eager? Ross nervously coughed. “And then?”

“I’ll go to… kiss… you… and then you say… something?” Smith held him closer, his blue eyes holding Ross’ gaze with intensity he’d never seen before.

Shaking his head to clear it, Ross thought on his feet. “Like… ‘Eww, morning breath?’ ”

“Yeah, exactly like that.” Smith grinned at him encouragingly, his dazzling smile captivating. Ross relaxed in his arms, content to be held for a while. After a few moments of this, it began to get almost too comfortable. Smith’d maintained steady eye contact for the whole time, his eyes slowly darkening to an emotion Ross couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“Ok, then you let me up?”

Smith blushed, traces of red swarming under his beard. “…Oh yeah, sorry mate!” He slowly set Ross back on his feet, smiled at him briefly and left the room.

—

At around 1, they decided to start on lunch. Ross buttered while Smith assembled, with the plan to go out for a picnic. Assembling, ham, cheese, and tuna sandwiches, they quickly made a pile, with Smith cutting them neatly into triangles then wrapping them and placing them into a Tupperware container.

Some sliced cucumber and tomatoes were added quickly, then a few packets of crisps. Ross added a tub of dog food and some treats, then grabbed Oscar’s leash. Quickly enticing Smith’s parents out with the chance of walking the dog, they set out on their way. Smith seemed unperturbed when his parents went out of their way to stay more than four meters away, but Ross noticed the hurt set to his mouth.

Subtly sidling over to him, his heart in his mouth, he threaded their fingers together. Smith glanced over at him, wide eyed. Ross looked his straight in the eye, giving his hand a little squeeze. The confusion cleared from Smith’s face almost immediately, his shoulders relaxing a little as he smiled, a proper, crinkled-nose smile, and began humming. Ross bit back a laugh, ignoring the dirty looks Beatrice was giving them as she hung onto Oscar’s leash.

Despite this, they ate lunch together. Although the two men were placed as far away as possible by ‘discreet’ methods, Ross saw straight through it. A quick glance at Smith confirmed that Beatrice was not subtle enough for her son. They shared a glance across the blanket, a few seconds longer than strictly necessary. Beatrice coughed meaningfully, and they instantly dropped gazes, instead unpacking the food.

—

For a ‘treat’ the prune decided to cook dinner. Ross, Smith and Peter sat awkwardly in the lounge, conversation non-existent as worrying sounds and smells clattered their way in from the kitchen, including a brief fire alarm, the distinct smell of burnt peanuts and the more than occasional clatter of a pot being dropped.

Eventually, they were called to the table and served what – with a generous eye – was the worst plate of food Ross’d ever had. It’d started life as Pad Thai, taken a brief turn down Charcoal Street, a quick trip down Unpalatable Road and finished in the garbage truck in Inedible Avenue.

Still, to be polite, Ross forced down half of his plate, disbelieving when Peter finished his plate, complimented the chef, then had seconds, and thirds. Across him, Beatrice ate two servings while Smith has eaten even less than he had, with his plate barely touched.

Quickly, they cleared up. Scraping plates into the bin before anyone had the chance to ask them why they hadn’t eaten. Smith stomach was audibly rumbling by now, but his whole plate still went into the trash. Smith started on the pots as Beatrice announced she was lethargic and needed her beauty sleep, before ascending the stairs. Peter followed quickly, leaving Ross to finish clearing the table.

Once the pots were dried and put away, Smith rooted through a cupboard, emerging with a triumphant grin and a packet of microwavable popcorn. He quickly popped it, then grabbed Ross, setting him in front of the TV and sticking on a film.

Ross snorted at the title screen. “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? Really mate?”

“Shut up! It’s great.” Smith smiled across at him with those big, impossible-to-say-no-to eyes. Sighing in defeat, Ross grabbed a handful of popcorn and settled on the sofa, while Smith fenced Oscar away from the popcorn.

They quickly became absorbed in the film, Smith singing – word and pitch – perfectly the whole time. The popcorn slowly decreased, with multiple attempts from Oscar to reach the buttery salty goodness.

By the time it ended, Ross was almost asleep. The system shut off as they left the room, heading straight upstairs. In a matter of minutes Ross was changed, clean and in bed, marginally behind Smith due to having to assemble his bed again. Ignoring the protestations (again) that it wasn’t going to do his back any good, Ross snuggled into his bed, out like a light.


	4. Tea and Toast

Smith’s parents had already left by the time Ross woke. They’d left a note on the table, informing them they’d gone to buy some ‘appropriate supplies’ if they were to stay the whole month. Sighing in disbelief, Ross put the kettle on and headed back upstairs, quickly packing away his bed and opening the curtains, hoping the light would wake Smith up. He gazed down at him, transfixed at the way the light highlighted the red in his hair. How it caught each eyelash, lengthening them into shadows across his cheek. Each freckle outstanding on his pale shoulder…

The piercing whistle of the kettle cut through his reverie. Quickly leaving the room, closing it behind him, Ross ran downstairs, shutting the whistle off. As the water cooled a little, he grabbed two mugs, spooned two sugars in one, and one in the other then added teabags to both. Filling both mugs with hot water, he gave each a small stir.

As the tea steeped, Ross got out a pouch of dog food, scraping it into a shallow bowl and sprinkling the top with some dry-food supplement. As an afterthought, he also grabbed a sheet of newspaper – Oscar could be a messy bugger sometimes.

When the tea had finished steeping, Ross gave the mugs another quick swirl, extracting the teabags and adding a splash of milk to each cup. Carefully carrying the mugs upstairs, he knocked the bedroom door open with a foot and set a mug of tea on Smith’s dresser. The dull clink of the mug being placed down alerted Smith to his presence, and an eye blinked open. “Hey,”

“Hey.” Smith’s voice, husky from sleep sent a shiver down Ross’ back. Hiding it by taking a sip of his own tea, Ross looked down at him. “It’s been a while since anyone’s done that for me.”

“Done what, tea in bed?”

“Yeah. I think the last time was… jeez… back in the Hat-house. You again.” Smith grinned broadly at him, open affection in his gaze. “You really do mother me, Ross.”

“Yeah, well… um….” Flustered, Ross looked down as Smith’s laugh reached his ears.

“Come sit with me. Keep an old man company.” Smith looked at him enticingly as he shifted to a sitting position.

“You aren’t that much older than I am! It’s what, 5 months?” Even as he protested, Ross moved to perch on the bed, cupping his mug between his hands. Smith grabbed his own mug, the sheet pooling in his lap, revealing his bare chest. Maybe a minute later, Oscar padded in, jumping fluidly onto the bed and spreading himself between the two of them. Absently, both Ross and Smith began to pet him, laughing in synchrony when he sighed and rolled over.

Ross was struck by the domesticity of the situation, the two of them in bed, sipping tea and watching the morning sky, a blissful dog between them. A sudden, uncalled for pang went through him, wishing for the moment to never end.

—

Smith bustled round the kitchen, delving through drawers and cupboards, grabbing bowls, spoons and mats whilst Ross secretly gazed admiringly at Smith, hidden with multiple cereal boxes. Behind him, Oscar was digging into his breakfast, spraying small amounts of food in the local area, making Ross glad he’d put newspaper down earlier.

The toaster popped with a quiet ding. Ross stood up, grabbing the toast quickly, and sliding new rounds of bread in, then cutting the toast into halves and slotting them into the toast rack. Smith started buttering a slice as Ross grabbed the cereal, pouring himself a bowl and topping it up with milk.

Sitting back down, he began to eat, quickly swallowing the cereal before it got soggy. It didn’t take long to finish the bowl. By that time, Smith’d finished the toast, and the toaster had gone off again, so Ross stuck his bowl in the sink and refilled the toast rack.

Smith immediately dug in, buttering more toast. Ross waited until the last possible moment, then plucked the toast from his fingers, taking a bite immediately. The look of surprise on Smith’s face was hilarious, a mixture of betrayal and shock, with just a hint of why the fuck did you do that.

In response, Ross winked at him, laughing at Smith’s poor attempt at retaliation, easily plucking the toast back. “Mate, I’ve already slobbered on it!”

‘I don’t care!” Smith scowled at him across the table as Ross took another bite, relishing the crunch. Quickly, scrambling for a reason, Smith blurted out what he thought was an infallible response. “I buttered it!!’ Check.

“I made it.” Checkmate.

Glaring at each other across the table, Ross took yet another bite. Smith’s resolve crumbled, dissolving him into chuckles, setting Ross off too. As they grinned at each other, the kettle went. Leaving the other half of his toast on his plate, Ross stood to make some tea.

He turned towards the table, a mug of tea in each hand. Staring in disbelief, Smith smiled at him like a cat with the cream, or more accurately, a half eaten piece of toast. Ross shook his head at the stubbornness of the man beaming across at him.

Handing him his tea, and resisting the urge to throw it over him, Smith instantly took a sip. Alarm crossed his features as he waved ineffectually in front of his mouth. “It’s so hot!”

“”Hot damn.”

Smith looked at him, wide eyed. “You did not just do that.”

In response, Ross only smirked.

—

When Smith’s parent arrived back, the two men suddenly realized just how empty the cupboards were. After a brief lunch and a few exchanged ‘pleasantries’, they left the house.

Smith drove them to the farthest possible supermarket, taking his time. When Ross looked at him in askance, he mouthed ‘my parents’. Ross only nodded. He couldn’t blame Smith for wanting to avoid them as much as possible.

They walked round the supermarket slowly, pausing to look at everything. Carefully, Ross selected a brand of jam, only for Smith change his mind two or three times, only to once again get the original brand they’d selected.

Slowly, he loosened off, so much so that Ross suggested they pop for a coffee before they left. Smith brightened visibly at this, shopping at a slightly faster pace.

By the time they got to the beer and snacks section, he was positively bouncing on the balls of his feet. Smiling at him from across the isle, Ross grabbed a packet of crisps from the wall. “These ok?”

Smith looked over, smiling. He opened his mouth wide, near shouting, “I’M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR DORITOS!” Groaning internally, and hoping they hadn’t pissed too many people off, Ross put the packet into the trolley.

They were soon at the checkout, Smith paying for the whole thing. When Ross protested - after all, he would be eating this too - Smith gave him a dazzling smile. “You can buy the coffee.” Melting just slightly, Ross nodded.

With the shopping left in a booth, they entered the café. Taking their time, they both ordered drinks. As an afterthought, Ross also ordered two slices of cake – Smith’s favorite if he remembered correctly.

Together they sat down at a table, waiting for their drinks to arrive. It didn’t take long; they’d been sat for less than a minute when a server came up to them. Quickly, he set down the two mugs, and two plates, and left in near silence.

Smith snorted. “Nothing like a friendly waiter to – Oh…” Ross snickered. Smith was staring at the plate like it’d magically appeared in front of him. “How did you…?”

“Triple chocolate fudge cake with salted caramel and marshmallows?” Smith nodded. “You tried to get me and Trott to make it for your birthday one year. It ended up as a black sludge, so we threw it and bought one instead. It’s pretty hard to forget something like that.”

Smith snorted. “I never knew.” Looking at him, he smiled softly. “Thank you mate.” Ross beamed back, melting a little more. They slowly made their way through the cake, drinking several mugs of tea, just chatting. At one point, Smith passed Ross the sugar bowl. Ross relished the moment their hands touched, quickly berating himself and abruptly letting go. Smith only just caught the bowl, giving him a quizzical look he evaded.

After a few hours and far more tea that they probably should’ve had, they headed home. Smith drove slightly quicker this time, sticking close to the speed limit. As they got out of the car, Smith wrapped his arms round Ross in a quick show of affection “Thank you for today. It was great.”

Hugging him back, Ross nodded. They unpacked quickly, evading the questions from the prune, mainly ‘what sort of shopping takes over 5 hours’ and headed to bed, still full from the cake. They sat up and chatted for a while, talking about nothing of importance until, slowly, they both dropped off.


	5. Walking the dog

Once again, Ross woke early. Silently, he packed up his bed and used the bathroom. Showering quickly, he used Smith’s shower gel. Of all the things to forget, he’d left a few of his toiletries back home, but the lemon scent was comforting, familiar. Running his hands through his hair, he lathered the gel there, and then used the foam to scrub down his body. Momentarily ducking under the spray, Ross rubbed out the soap and turned off the spray.

He toweled off his hair roughly, and then began to shave. His neck beard had begun to itch like a bitch. Carefully, methodically, he smoothed shaving oil into his skin then picked up his razor. Smoothly tracing the contours of his face, he began to scrape away the hair. He was at the most difficult part – his top lip – when the door opened.

Smith walked in, halfway to the sink when he noticed Ross. “Sorry mate! I didn’t see you.” Backing off quickly, he made his way to the door.

“It’s fine!” Ross smiled at him – well as much as he could smile with a razor to his face. Seeing Smith hover a little, he nodded to him. “You may as well come in.”

Smith came in instantly. Grabbing his toothbrush, he quickly began to scrub at his teeth. Good-naturedly jostling him, Ross elbowed him to the side a little to peer at his face. Not seeing any errant hairs, he put down his razor and washed his face. Smith yelped when he splashed him with water.

Together, they stood looking at each other in the mirror, brushing their teeth. Smith began giving him the eyebrows, and Ross had to fight to not spit out his mouthful of toothpaste foam. Quickly, he scrubbed his remaining teeth and spat. Rinsing his toothbrush, he had to dodge Smith’s projectile of foam into the sink. Fixing him with a mock glare, Ross flicked him with a little water and near ran out of the bathroom before the auburn haired man could retaliate.

Quickly, he dressed and headed downstairs. Pouring a bowl of cereal he began to eat, smiling briefly at Peter as he passed him. Smith came downstairs shortly, greeting Ross with a grin. He pulled the smaller man into an awkward side hug that Ross clumsily leant into, his head hitting Smith’s chin. Ross could almost feel him smiling into his hair.

After a short time, Smith moved away, quickly fixing himself some breakfast. Plonking himself down opposite Ross, they ate speedily, throwing their dishes in the sink.

Smith looked at him, “We really need to go into the office soon.”

“You recon?” Ross’d assumed they’d had enough footage. Trott would’ve texted him if not. Then again, Trott wasn’t the best at keeping track of footage length, Smith usually looked after that.

Smith nodded seriously. “We’ve almost run out of Trials, and Worms needs doing too.”

“Send Trott a text, see if he’s up for recording?” Ross ran his fingers through his hair. “We could try and do a bulk recording of both.” That’d be the easiest and most efficient way.

Smith nodded, thinking. “That’d work, but I don’t want to leave my parents unattended for too long.”

“We could always record from home for few days?” That seemed like the most viable option to Ross.

Smith looked at him, puzzled. “How? We’ve only got my set up.”

“We could pop over on the way back and grab my stuff. It’s like five minutes away. We could set up like the old days.” Even as he spoke, Ross was figuring out the logistics of getting his computer set up here.

“Ah, the good old table footsie days. What a time.” Cracking a tired smile, Smith glanced at Ross. “Trott used to get so angry.”

Nodding absently, Ross punched out a text to Trott, pleased at the immediate response. “Trott can record tomorrow. He’s shopping with Katie today.”

“That’s good, we could give Oscar a decent walk? Poor thing’s practically bouncing off the walls.”

“That’s actually a decent idea! From you! I wouldn’t have expected it!” With a smile, Smith hip-bumped Ross in retaliation for his snide comment. “Oi!”

—

There was a slight breeze, pushing Smith’s curls away from his face ever so slightly. Glancing at him from the corner of his eye, Ross fell just a little more in love with the broad smile crossing Smith’s face at how Oscar jumped about ahead of them. The way the sunlight caught those blue eyes in just the right light for them to sparkle as he turned that impossible grin towards him, making his breath catch in his chest. Smiling back at this Adonis, this near-flawless human in awe, Ross missed the glance of pure affection Smith gave him.

Together, they trailed after Oscar, letting him run as far as he wanted, occasionally throwing a ball for him. It was only when Ross bent to grab the ball that he realized Smith’d tangled their fingers together. Swinging their arms slightly, Ross lost himself in the moment, letting himself enjoy this contact.

“Hello strangers!” He’d almost missed seeing the bikes, only registering them when they pulled up in front of him. Instantly, Smith dropped his hand.

“Martyn! Lewis! Hey!” Ross looked at them, both flushed in the face, panting and sweating. They’d really been going hard at it today.

“Where’ve you two been? Lewis was thinking about putting a missing notice!” Martyn grinned at them, laughing at his own joke.

“Well, Smith’s parents have come round, so I’m helping him…”Ross stumbled for a quick explanation. “Entertain them.”

“Oh Smith! That’s cool.” Martyn gave Ross a little look he shrugged off immediately.

Grabbing the reins as always, Lewis immediately began planning. “We’ll have to have a meal out with them!”

Smith began to protest immediately. “I’m not sure that’s su- ”

“Baloney!” Lewis’ no-nonsense tone cut him off. “We’re due a company meeting anyway! I’ll get Turps to pop it on expenses.”

Full of boyish excitement, Martyn smiled eagerly. “Minty’ll enjoy organizing something like this. It’s been a while since she’s done something she loves.”

“No, really it’s- ” Smith objected straight away.

“Smith! Really.” Lewis smiled at him calmingly.

“Don’t stress. We’ll sort it.” Patting him sociably on the shoulder, Martyn beamed.

“And pop into the office occasionally! We’d almost forgotten what you’d looked like.” Lewis teased. “Tell you what; Kim and Turps are going clubbing tomorrow. Why don’t you join in with them? Kim misses you.”

“She did say she felt much taller without you two around.” Martyn smirked. “Anyway, we’ve got to go. Lewis is determined to beat my best time for this track. See you around.”

“See you later.”

The two bikes headed off, Lewis a little wobbly to start with. Waving after them, Ross glanced at Smith. “They’re not going to let us get out of it. They’ve probably already arranged for us to get drunk.”

Smith leered at him. “Well, it’s been a while since we got wasted. It’ll be fun!”

“If you say so.” Ross was always skeptical about getting drunk. He didn’t really see the point of doing ridiculous things and then not being able to remember them the day after.

Glancing over at Smith, Ross saw the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders. “Smith, they do mean the best.”

“I know, it’s just a bit…” Smith trailed off, the stress clear in his voice.

Placing an affectionate hand on the nape of his neck, Ross rubbed a little circle. Almost straightaway, Smith’s shoulders sagged a bit. “Come on, let’s get back home.”

—

They walked back slowly, feet aching. They’d walked for most of the day, popping into various parks and walking over most of the city. They’d walked for miles. They’d bought falafel from a street vendor, eating it as they walked, letting Oscar run off his spare energy. Finally they seemed to have worn him out, judging by the way he walked just in front of them, at a sedate pace. They meandered their way home, taking as many shortcuts as possible until they reached the front gate. Quickly letting them in, Smith stuck the kettle on while Ross had a fast shower.

Ross near ran downstairs after, grabbing his tea and sitting on the sofa. Oscar jumped up with him, pawing him until he petted him. Sat with a dog under one arm and a mug of tea in the other, Ross let himself relax. Smith joined him after a while.

He hadn’t bothered with a shirt, but had put some sweat pants on. Watching him discreetly as he wandered around the room, eventually picking up a guitar, Ross admired the freckles, dotted randomly across his shoulders and the way his muscles moved, shifting slightly under his speckled skin.

As Smith plucked melodically yet aimlessly at the guitar, Ross finished his tea and curled around Oscar, cuddling the dog thoroughly. They sat there, completely relaxed and bone tired. Maybe later they’d figure out just how far they’d walked, but for now they just sat silently in each other’s company.


	6. Worms

They were up late the next day. Trott wasn’t going to be in the office until 12, so there was no rush. Laying on his camp bed, Ross could feel the aches from yesterday’s walk. So much so, he was sorely tempted to crawl into bed next to Smith. It had been an open offer, after all. However, it felt wrong, letting himself so intimate with Smith when he knew for a fact Smith only found him appealing as a friend. It’d be like – well – using him.

Getting up slowly, he stretched, feeling all the aches in his back and legs from throwing balls and walking with Oscar. Opening the curtain, he let the light trickle onto Smith’s face and headed downstairs. Peter and Beatrice were already up, bustling round the kitchen. Peter passed him a mug of coffee with a smile. Taking the cup cautiously, Ross sipped. Finding it pretty much perfect he grinned in acceptance. Gingerly, he began talking to the man.

Peter smiled, eagerly conversing, shocking Ross. The man had stayed out of the way as much as possible. Why was he being so – well – nice? They spoke briefly, long enough for Ross to inform him of their need to go to work today and for Peter to mention he was taking Beatrice out until late that night – most probably to early morning - until the prune coughed and Peter made his excuses, leaving the room.

Frowning in puzzlement, Ross turned to the stove, heating up a pan of water. He was dropping a couple of eggs in when Smith came up to him, slinging an arm round his waist. Turning, Ross smiled at him and rested his head on Smith’s shoulder.

They stood like that as the eggs boiled, comfortable in each other’s embrace. Smith tightened his arms a little round Ross, contemplating how natural it felt. When Ross stepped away, Smith almost wished he could wrap his arms back around him. It was absurd, he thought. Ross was straight, why was he getting in a pickle over him?

—

They walked to the office, laughing as they sauntered past Kim in her car. It seemed like everyone was coming in late today: as they walked in they ran into Martyn; Hannah was making her first cup of coffee; Sjin was turning his computer on; Lewis had only just started recording with Sips.

They walked into their office, Smith switching on all the computers while Ross opened the windows a crack. It was boiling in YogTowers despite being little more than warm outside. Ross sat at his computer, logging in and setting up for the day. Instantly, he began searching for good themes for his Worms’ names. They were going to record a few battles today, and he’d be damned if he went for plain, easily guessable references.

Smith slunk up behind him, resting his head on Ross’. “Picking your names?”

“Yeah.” Ross could feel every time Smith opened his mouth, a slight increase in pressure on the crown of his head. “You already got yours sorted?”

“Of course, and I’ve got possibly the most obscure names ever!” As if it could get worse than last time. It’d taken Ross nearly an hour to source Smith’s reference.

“Really?” Jesus! Smith had possibly the boniest chin ever, despite the beard.

“Well, you know that series of books, the ones Trott refuses to read because I kept recommending them?”

“Yeah.” Ross could remember Smith begging him to read a book for almost a year. He’d finally given in and read the first book, before demanding the whole series.

“I’m using names from that.” Smith chuckled evilly into Ross’ hair. “And to make it worse, I’m going to use that series for the whole session. Trott’s gonna be pissed.” Near singing the last part, Smith raised his voice to a lilt.

“Speak of the devil…” Ross muttered as Smith moved his head, standing to full height and stepping away.

Trott walked in, a smirk on his face and coffee in one hand. “Why’s Smith got his troll face on?”

“Just discussing Worm’s names, mate.” Ross could practically hear Smith’s grin getting bigger and trollier than ever.

“Smith, I swear to god. If you’ve gotten the worst reference ever, I will kill you.”

Smith laughed in his face, “You’re just mad about last time mate.”

“No, I’m not!” Trott turned towards his desk, logging on. Ross could still hear him muttering to himself. “Who the hell uses Beaver Towers anyway?”

—

They sat around in the main room, recovering from their marathon Worms session and sipping tea. Trott was busy figuring out the logistics of Smith and Ross recording from home, trying to figure out how best to file share. Eventually, Smith cut him off.

“Mate, we’ll stick it on memory sticks and drop them off here.”

Trott pouted. “I still don’t see why you need to record from home anyway. I still have to come in.”

Choosing to ignore Trott’s valid point, Smith smiled over at Ross, “We can do that right?”

“Sure.”

Ross though about the Worms session just gone. The usual banter had been intersped with another of Smith’s ridiculous games. This one he called, “Who would win?” A bit basic, but similarly to Wine or Cheese, a lot of effort hadn’t really gone into the naming system.

It basically involved both Ross and Trott putting forwards a champion, anything and anyone, from a unicorn to Charlie Chapman, and then arguing over who would win, with Smith playing Devil’s advocate the whole time.

It had gone on over the several episodes they’d recorded, and Ross just hoped it wouldn’t have the same popularity as Wine or Cheese. He couldn’t face trying to sell another ridiculous t-shirt to the fans. Hell, they’d gotten plenty of complains about the ‘Hand of Freedom’ shirt too.

As the three of them slowly sipped their tea, Ross could only wonder what ridiculous theme Smith’s arguing would take during Trials.

—

“Who would be the better astronaut? Really?”

“What? It seemed like a good idea. And, it’ll keep the comments section full.”

“The comments section is always full mate. Of spam.” Ross rolled his eyes. If he read another ‘FIRST’ today, he’d do – well – something.

“Yeah, well now it’ll be full of meaningful conversations of who would suffocate in space first.”

“I’m not particularly sure I want to read about how I’d asphyxiate by mixing up my breathing and peeing tubes, mate. Thanks for that, by the way.” Smith grinned proudly at one of his more creative death scenarios.

“Don’t mention it. But at least it won’t be death by …” Smith gritted his teeth. “…CLASSIC TROTT ERROR!”

“Let it go, Smith. Just because you know it’s the only way you win.”

Grinning wickedly at him, Smith hip-bumped Ross into a bush, grabbing his hand before he could fall all the way over. Pulling him back up, Ross overbalanced, almost falling over his own feet. Seizing his shoulders, Smith steadied him, laughing at his inept friend.

“Glad you didn’t do that while I had my computer!” Laughing back, Ross smiled broadly and led Smith into his apartment block.

—

They staggered home, carrying the ungainly computer between them. Smith struggled with the actual computer while Ross fought with his monitor, keyboard, mouse and tangled mess of cables. Kicking the door open, they set the mess on Smith’s desk. Immediately Ross got to work, untangling cables and coiling them up.

As Smith watched Ross, he found himself drawn to the dark haired man. He observed how Ross checked the cable connections as he absently ran his fingers through his hair. He saw how the smaller man constantly adjusted his shirt at the same time as plugging in his monitor. He watched how Ross set up his computers, lifting everything into place and setting his cables in a neat pile just as intently as he mapped the phantom itches he had on his arm. And he gazed at Ross’ lips, transfixed by the man biting and licking them. He could almost imagine kissing him, biting those lips himself and – No!

Smith reprimanded himself. This is Ross. Your friend. Your straight friend. Keep it in your pants. Biting his own lips nervously, Smith glanced at Ross. As if feeling his eyes upon him, the dark haired man turned, smiling.

“I think that’s it!” Ross grinned, proud.

Smith smiled back. Ross’ enthusiasm was infectious. “Boot it up then. See if you’ve done it properly.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Have I set it up wrong, Mr. Nerdy computer guy?” Ross pouted, mock hurt.

“Well, I could fault your technique but… that is rude!” Smith grabbed the pillow Ross’d just chucked at him and took aim.

—

They stood together by the door, waiting for Turps to come knocking. Smith was trying to flatten an errant curl fruitlessly as Ross straightened his collar. The knock came quickly, and Ross opened the door eagerly. Kim stood there, looking pretty as always. Grinning, she pulled him into a hug.

“I can not believe you walked past me this morning! Cheeky sods!” Kim pulled back, before reaching up and straightening his collar.

“And I can’t believe you gave us the finger!” Smith leant down for a hug too, a grin on his face. Kim smiled adorably at him, teasingly.

“You love it! Now come on! Turps isn’t going to wait forever.” She pulled the two men out of the house and down the drive, giggling excitedly.


	7. A good night out

“Three, two, one!” Without hesitation, Ross chucked back the brightly colored shot, grimacing a little at the chemical strawberry aftertaste. Opposite him, Smith slammed down his empty glass, a manic grin on his face. Turps put his down with a little more care. Kim was still eyeing her drink dubiously, the black absinthe floating on top of the neon red grenadine and the bright blue curaçao.

“Come on, Kim!” Kim wrinkled her nose at Smith.

“It shmells funny.” At only five foot, Kim was definitely a lightweight, and, judging by her slur, already pissed. Her cheeks were glowing bright red, another indicator. They had had quite a few rounds of shots by now. Nonetheless, she picked up the shot and threw it back with gusto. She came up spluttering. “Eww! Thatsh grosh!”

“Man up Quimothy!” Turps clapped her on the back with a grin. “It’ll get some hair on your chest.”

Grinning around at the flushed faces, Ross grabbed the tray. “Next round on me?” Turps gave out a little cheer. Ross carefully navigated his way through the bar, dodging elbows and dancing couples. Setting the tray on the bar, he grinned over at the bartender.

The man put down the glass he was polishing. “Alright mate. What’ll it be?”

“A round of Tequila shots, for four please, mate.”

“Sure thing.” As he was slicing up lemons, another man came up to the bar. Ross leant up on the bar, head swimming pleasantly as he watched the bartender pour the liquor. The man standing next to him was unpleasantly close all of a sudden, and Ross turned to ask for some room, when his arse was most definitely grabbed. He looked in shock at the man, several inches shorter than he was and about twice the width. “Hey gorgeous. What’s your poison?”

“Um…” The man began to grind on him. Ross looked around desperately, catching Kim’s eye and subtly indicating to the man. Kim nudged Turps and they began to walk towards him. Ross sighed in relief, ignoring the man desperately humping his hip and discreetly turning away as far as he could.

Over at the jukebox, Smith saw the man hitting on Ross, and felt a quick, unfamiliar pang of jealously. He shoved it aside; Ross could go with whomever he wanted. Then he saw the desperate air Ross was giving off. Striding away from the machine, he quickly closed in on the pair.

Ross felt another, different hand slip into his pocket, and began to panic, when the owner of said hand turned him towards him. Ross barely had time to register who it was as a hand traced his jawline and a pair of lips pressed gently to his. The other man’s lips quickly muffled his small squeak of surprise. It was a quick brush, lasting only a few seconds, but already Ross could feel a small coil of arousal looping round the base of his spine.

Ross’ breath caught in his throat as Smith looked down at him. “Hey.”

“Hey you. This is my man!” The short man aggressively pushed Smith away.

Smith just grinned at him, his eyes sparkling dangerously. He pulled Ross closer. “Actually, this is my man.” And with that he leant down and pressed his lips to Ross’ again.

After a startled second, Ross kissed him back. He reacted instinctively, fervently as his hands moved up, over those broad shoulders. His fingers tangled in impossible auburn curls. As one of Smith’s hands tightened on his hips, the other in his back pocket squeezed. Smith’s tongue lightly traced his lower lip, encouraging Ross to part his. Ross could hear the blood rushing through his body, convinced Smith could feel his heart racing through his chest as their lips messily traced over each other.

The stubble scratching along his jaw and the solid heat of the man in front of him made it easy to lose himself in the moment. Ross let his hands wander, tracing patterns into the ginger stubble as Smith kissed him, his perception narrowing only to this overwhelming, charming nerd lord who kissed like it was all he was made to do.

They were pressed together from head to toe, and Ross was pretty sure this was the best kiss he’d ever had. Eventually the man stalked away and Smith took a step back, smiling and sauntering back to the jukebox. Ross didn’t say anything, just met the shocked gazes of Kim and Turps with red cheeks.

—

It wasn’t long before Kim was totally wasted. Turps wasn’t in the greatest state either, so they opted to abandon ship and just go home. It was decided they should take Kim back to theirs, mainly because she could barely stand upright. It wasn’t safe to leave someone that drunk alone. It wasn’t the first time someone’d had Kim round either; the last three drunken escapades had resulted in the small woman bunking over with someone else.

They walked along the pavements, either side of Kim, trying to keep her walking straight, or as straight as the two stumbling men were capable of. Fortunately, Smith’s house was close to the pub.

A fifteen minute stagger later and they were at Smith’s door. Smith opened it fairly quickly, needing only three attempts to find the keyhole, and two more to turn the key the correct way. He opened the door, leaving the other two to stagger in after him.

Ross scooped Kim up and took her inside, tucking her up on the sofa and ensuring she was lying on her side. As an after though, he went through the medicine draw and grabbed her some aspirin and a glass of water, placing them by her bed for if she woke up in the middle of the night.

Bleary eyed, Kim whispered a drunken goodbye, her eyes focusing just a little on Ross’ face as she patted his cheek affectionately, then promptly fell asleep. Closing the door to the lounge behind him, Ross went to the kitchen.

Smith was already there, pouring two glasses of water. “Get this down you mate. It’ll help in the morning.” Ross took the drink from him carefully. Smith ensured he had a tight hold before he relinquished command, his fingers brushing Ross’ in the process.

Ross gulped, hard. He quickly downed the water, cringing as he felt a blush spreading across his face. Almost chucking the glass into the sink he ran upstairs, ignoring Smith’s quizzical gaze. Too drunk to even attempt making the camp bed, he stripped to his boxers and jumped straight into Smith’s bed.

He lay there, willing his flush to go down as he heard Smith make his way up the stairs carefully. He refused to turn over when the bedroom door creaked open, steadfastly looking the other way as Smith stripped behind him and climbed under the duvet. The mattress sank slightly, and Ross rolled a little with it, freezing in shock when he leant back into Smith.

The auburn chuckled under his breath, wrapping an arm round his waist, his lips brushing Ross’ neck as he spoke. “What’s gotten your knickers in a twist?”

Goose pimples broke up along Ross’ spine at the contact. He rocked back and forth a little, trying to bolster up the confidence to confess to Smith exactly what he wanted - needed - to say. Smith sighed gently, his warm breath caressing Ross’ neck, prompting his to move. He twisted in Smith’s arms to face him, gathering his breath.

Maybe it was the alcohol running through his system, or just a moment of madness, but Smith could swear he saw a glimmer of attraction in Ross’ eyes. He leant forwards a little closer to the dark haired man and gently rubbed their noses together.

Smith met the sea-glass orbs with determination, even simple eye contact electrifying the air between them. Pressing forward quickly, Smith touched Ross’ lips with his own. When the other man made no protestation, he repeated the action. The third time, Ross’ hand latched onto his shoulder, and he kissed back.

Ross tasted of the neon alcohol they’d been drinking, smelt of the dingy pub and kissed like wildfire, his plush lips capturing Smith’s with an intensity he’d only hinted at in the pub. Already, Smith could feel himself reacting to the kiss as Ross stole his breath.

Fire was sparking in both their guts as they pressed together, chest to chest, writhing together under the sheets. Smith’s hands were everywhere, it seemed to Ross. Caressing his neck, sides, arse. As he tilted his head back with a moan, Smith began to kiss a trail down his neck, occasionally nipping a small mark onto his pale skin. Desperately, Ross threaded his hand through Smith’s hair, dragging him back up and instantly locking lips.

Pulling back, Smith looked Ross directly in the eyes. “God, you’re gorgeous.” Feeling his cheeks flame, Ross pulled him back into the kiss, carefully pushing Smith on his back and straddling him. Slowly, Ross moved to kissing Smith’s neck as he whispered hotly in his ear. Smith’s hands cupped his arse, and guided him into a smooth roll of his hips, brushing their crotches together.

Ross gasped at the sensation of Smith, warm and hard and eager against his member. Stopping in shock at how good it felt, Ross looked away.

“You ok?” Smith’s concern was palpable. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, it’s just…” Ross broke off, burying his head in the crook of Smith’s neck.

“This isn’t your first is it?” Ross shook his head. Thinking, Smith absently threaded his fingers through Ross’ hair. “Your first time with a guy?” Taking his silence as a yes, Smith smoothed a hand down Ross’ back, tracing each vertebra lightly. “It’s a lot to take in?”

“Something like that.” Ross mumbled into Smith’s shoulder.

“Do you want… I could take over?” Urgently, Ross nodded. “Right then, off.”

Slowly, Ross crawled off, sitting at the edge of the bed. Smith pulled him to his feet, holding him close and resting their foreheads together. His hands rested on Ross’ hips, thumbs tracing circles into his hips. Carefully, Smith recaptured Ross’ lips with his in a soft, gentle kiss, juxtaposition to the frantic snogging of a few minutes again.

“Is this ok?” Hands drawing patterns onto his back, Ross let himself relax into the taller man.

“Absolutely.” Slowly, the kiss deepened, pace incrementally increasing until Ross was panting, biting back a gasp when Smith rubbed experimentally across the front of his boxers.

“Still ok?”

“Yep.” Smith once again kissed him. Slowly, Smith moved his way across his face, kissing Ross’ jawbone. As his moans increased, Smith continued down, caressing his shoulders, chest, stomach until he was kneeling. Pressing his face to the front of Ross’ boxers, feeling his curved warmth against his cheek, Smith exhaled, chuckling quietly at the resulting shiver.

Loosening Ross’ boxers, Smith pulled them down, bit by bit until they hit the floor. Glancing up at Ross, and seeing pure lust, Smith leant forwards and slowly licked a line from base to tip, planting a small kiss on the head of Ross’ cock.

Keeping steady eye contact, he slowly took Ross’ cock into his mouth, taking in the first few inches, and bobbing his head steadily. He grabbed Ross’ hands, placing them on his head and smiling when Ross carefully curled his fingers through his hair.

Leisurely swallowing him down until his nose brushed his groin, Smith gave a little hum of contentment. He was surprised when Ross groaned. Pulling off, getting a quick breath and heading back down, he hummed again, getting a stronger response. Almost laughing round the cock in his mouth, Smith began to vary his humming, at one point attempting the riff from Ghostbusters, continuously coming back up for air.

He hadn’t been going for too long, when Ross’ hands tightened in his hair. “Smith! I’m going to come.” Humming again, Smith began to move with real intensity, tracing the underside of Ross’ cock with his tongue. “Smith!!”

He continued, until Ross came, with a few expletives and a lot of groaning. A bitter tang exploded over his tongue as he swallowed, continuing along Ross’ shaft until he began to shiver from the oversensitivity. Gently kissing his way back up Ross’ body, Smith met him in a kiss.

Although at first Ross recoiled at the astringent aftertaste, he quickly began to kiss Smith back. Smith was acutely aware of the hand trailing down his side. As Ross’ hand slipped under his waistband his cock twitched, arcing towards the heat. Teasingly, Ross trailed a finger over the head, collecting the precome. Smith watched, awed, as he slowly bought his finger to his mouth and sucked. The thought of Ross being so - well - dirty had never occurred to him. That thought alone made his already stiff cock stand a little more to attention.

Ross replaced his hand down Smith’s boxers, palming his dick. Slowly, he wrapped his hand round and began to stroke. As his hand moved, he stepped closer, kissing Smith’s neck as the taller man groaned wantonly. Using his sounds as a guide, Ross rolled his wrist over the head of Smith’s cock and smirked when he moaned, a high-pitched noise starting in the back of his throat.

Going faster, Smith’s moans turned to pleas until, with a final flourish he came, splattering the inside of his boxers and Ross’ hand. They kissed, coming down from the euphoria until eventually, their heartbeat slowed, beating in sync.

Ross grabbed a tissue, wiping his hand as Smith peeled off his boxers. Quickly, the two of them cleaned themselves up. Ross crawled into bed as Smith crept into the bathroom, discarding all evidence and rinsing the semen out of his boxers. Somewhere in his drunken, contented mind, he knew Ross couldn’t find out about what had happened. Slipping into a fresh pair of boxers, he crawled into bed beside Ross, lying close enough to the dark haired man he could feel the heat radiating from his back. He fell asleep quickly, not hearing the self-satisfied hum Ross made as he rocked back slightly into his arms, and followed him into slumber.


	8. Hugs and Hangovers

Ross groaned, pulling his pillow closer and nestling his head further onto it. His head ached like nobody’s business, his mouth tasted like shit and his entire body ached. He could only assume that last night had been a good one. Blearily, he remembered the club, and drinking.

“Knock knock?” Cracking open his eyes a little, Ross saw Kim enter the room. She too looked a little worse for wear. Quietly, she handed Ross a bottle of water and placed some pills on the dresser.

It was only when his pillow moved that Ross’ brain snapped into action. Looking more closely at the pillow, he realized it was Smith. Smith was his pillow. Why was Smith his pillow?

But that meant Smith was in his bed. Or more accurately, he was in Smith’s bed. Why was he in Smith’s bed? Slowly sitting up, Ross felt his head spin. Racing past Kim, he ran into the bathroom, only just reaching the toilet bowl in time. Retching violently into the toilet, Ross felt a small hand rub circles gently into his back.

At length, he looked up, positive there was nothing left for him to bring up. With a compassionate smile, Kim passed him his water. Rinsing his mouth of the taste, Ross spat into the loo then shakily stood up. Stumbling back into the bedroom, he got back in bed with Smith, not like he really had a choice.

Quickly, he swallowed down the aspirin Kim’d bought him. Patting the bed beside him, he invited her to sit down. She complied, and they began talking quietly, recalling as much about the night as they could together.

Quickly, Kim skimmed through what she could remember, with Ross interjecting as their drunken minds addled and struggled to quite form a coherent and chronological series of events. Together, they pieced together what had happened. At the last round of colored shots, Ross’ memory cut out.

Looking at him in shock, Kim asked him the weirdest question he’d ever heard her say. “You don’t remember the guy hitting on you? And what happened after.”

“I’m straight. Why would a guy hit on me?” Frowning in confusion, Ross shook his head, instantly regretting it. “What happened after?”

Kim blushed, looking down, declining to speak. “Kim, what happened?”

“Smith saw, and went over and…” refusing to meet his eye, Kim spoke in a rush, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Thenyoukindofstartedmakingout.”

“You’re joking?”

“No, Turps saw too. I don’t know if Smith’ll remember, seeing as you didn’t.”

Frantically, Ross ran a hand through his hair. “Can you not mention it to him?”

“Ross, by now Turps’ll have told someone. When you next go to YogTowers it’ll be all over the place.”

“Shit. But… How… I mean… Smith is… and I’m straight.”

Kim looked him in the eye seriously. “No offense to either of you, but it didn’t look that way.”

—

Smith opened his eyes, wincing at the pale sunlight. Quickly, he shut his eyes again before slowly winching them open. Kim and Ross sat talking beside him.

Groaning a little, Smith levered himself up on his elbows, smiling weakly in thanks when Ross turned and passed him some pills. Swallowing them down with relief, Smith slowly made his way to his feet. Noticing his clothes, piled up against the wall, he had a brief flash of an image, of kneeling in front of Ross, with those clothes in the background.

Smith stumbled into the bathroom, brushing his teeth as he mentally ran through the events of last night. Things got a little hazy during the club, but he could distinctly remember Ross kissing him. He could remember walking Kim back, and Ross placing her on the sofa, then going upstairs and… oh.

Smith splashed some water in his face, denying the heat building in his groin. Deciding to shower, mainly because he felt rank, he walked in, turning the heat down low. Quickly, he scrubbed the grime from his face.

He stepped out, grabbing his towel and toweled off quickly. Inspecting his neck in the mirror, he could see several small tooth marks and bruises, hidden in the shadows cast by his beard. Stepping back into his boxes he toweled off his hair and made his way back to the room. Kim’d disappeared. When he looked at Ross in askance, he told Smith she’d gone downstairs to make a pot of coffee. Smiling at the welcome thought, Smith lay back on the bed.

Seizing Ross around the middle, Smith pulled him down and used his bare stomach as a pillow. When Ross went to complain, Smith shushed him. “My bed, my rules.”

Ross slowly stroked a hand up Smith’s arm, tangling his fingers in his curls. Humming in pleasure Smith wrapped an arm around him. They lay like that, listening for Kim’s footsteps up the stairs. After a while, she came up. Setting the tray on a bedside cabinet, Kim laughed at them.

“Look at you two! All cuddling. Tumblr would explode.”

Ross grinned weakly, holding his arms out to Kim. “Wait a minute, the coffee isn’t ready yet.” Wiggling his fingers, Ross reached for her. Getting his meaning, Kim rolled onto the bed, letting herself be cuddled.

“This doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with you.” Kim relaxed back in his arms, glad that she, at least, had a top on.

“Shut up.” Ross pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Everyone knows hugs help you get over hangovers.”

“If you say so.” Kim smirked. She’d missed these little shows of affection from Ross while he’d been staying with Smith.

Smith turned a little more to his side, spooning Ross who spooned Kim. Wrapping his arms around both of them, his fingers rested on Kim’s arm and his chin on Ross’ shoulder.

After a while, Ross had to get up. Reluctantly, the three of them sat up, each holding their heads to stop the room spinning. Kim poured three cups of coffee, passing one to Smith. They sat crossed legged on the bed, sipping quietly. When Ross came back in he grabbed his cup, leaning up against the wall. By the time the cups had been drained, they all felt a little better.

—

They fed and watered Kim. She quickly showered and left, wanting to get home and recover a little more. Plus, she pointed out; Archie had probably already eaten the food she’d left out for his breakfast. Ross could confirm that would’ve already happened, Archie’d already done it multiple times to him.

They waved her off, watching her walk back to the pub. Ross’d offered to walk her there, but Kim had declined. “No offence, but you look even worse than I do.” When Smith’d protested, she swatted him off. “Stop worrying you old fusspot! I’ll be fine.”

Retreating back inside, they sat on a sofa together and cuddled. Ross was still insisting hugs helped. They were joined after a while by Oscar, who leapt up on Smith and promptly fell asleep. Smirking at him, Ross petted the mutt’s ears.

Bored, Smith got his phone out, and began flicking through the photo album. Leaning back on him, Ross watched the photos flicking by. It was ridiculous how many different faces Trott could pull. Almost every photo of him had a different ridiculous expression.

They scrolled through, Smith quickly flicking past one. “Hold on a second.”

Smith blushed, but complied. The picture was one of Ross, backlit, looking lovingly into the camera. But that wasn’t what Ross was looking at. Double tapping the screen, he zoomed in on a figure behind his shoulder. Collapsing into laughter, Smith almost dropped the phone at the face Kim was pulling.

“We need to send her that!” Ross pinched the phone, screen capping the image and messaging it to Kim, Duncan and Hannah.

They continued through the photos, subsiding into giggles every few photos, at ones taken just at the wrong moment. They zoomed in on people pulling awful faces and sent them to the respective people. They had to stop when both Kim and Hannah threatened to block Smith’s number. Smiling at each other, Smith slung an arm around Ross’ neck and rested the side of his face to Ross’. Quickly, he pecked him on the cheek.

Leaning back towards him, Ross reciprocated the gesture and pecked him back. Resting his head on Smith’s shoulder, the taller man began to run his fingers through Ross’ hair. Exhaling gently, Ross laughed when Smith shivered.

They sat like that for a while, until Oscar woke. Contented, the dog jumped off Smith’s lap. Ross quickly took his place, resting his head on Smith’s far knee. Smith leant down, kissing Ross’ nose and snorting when he scrunched it up in response. In retaliation, Ross shoved his hand in Smith’s face, laughing when he kissed the center of his palm. Putting it down to Smith’s tired, addled mind, Ross savored these few peaceful moments.

—

Ross stood awkwardly at the side of the bed, considering. Smith looked over at him, shirt halfway over his head. “You getting in or what mate?”

“Yeah, ok.” Ross climbed in - pajama clad – on one side of the bed and twisted to face the other man. Smith came up, moving the covers back.

“Oi, pajamas mate. Do not make this weirder than it has to be.” Frowning in dismay, Smith turned and grabbed his plaid bottoms and shirt. Quickly yanking them on, he climbed in the other side. Rolling over, Ross turned off the light and relaxed. Under the duvet, Smith fumbled for a minute then loosely entwined their hands. Glad the dark would cover any blushes, Ross smiled to himself.


	9. Recording from home

Smith sat on the sofa, nose in a book. He was almost halfway through his book now. All he really wanted to do was finish the story now that most exciting part was over and move on to the next book. It was midday, and he was waiting for a text from Trott, saying he was ready to record.

Ross sat opposite him, only just back from walking Oscar. Smith would’ve gone with him, but had been bogged down with a demand from his mother. He had to do with waving from the window at Ross’ retreating back and promising himself he’d go next time.

Dog-earing the page, he sat and headed to the kitchen. Quickly brewing a cuppa, he ferried it into the lounge, handing it to Ross. The dark haired man smiled in surprise, before taking a sip. Grinning in thanks, he patted the sofa next to him.

Smith sat. Immediately Oscar ran in and jumped into his lap. Laughing, he stroked the dog, running his fingers through the thick ruff. Ross laughed at him as Oscar licked a long line down his face. Mock scowling, he wiped his face off with his hand before renewing his efforts at petting Oscar within an inch of his life.

His phone buzzed, just as Oscar was falling asleep. Passing Ross his phone, he continued his ministrations. Stopping him, Ross pulled him to his feet. “Time to record. Trott’s set up already.”

Standing they headed to Smith’s ‘study,’ a room full of books with a long desk. Ross made sure the door was closed, so Oscar couldn’t sneak in. Sitting opposite each other, they quickly booted up the software they’d need and got to recording.

—

Smith was shattered. They’d spent the entire day recording bits and bobs, and then he’d been editing for a few hours. Launching himself facedown on the nearest sofa he curled into a ball and let himself drift off. His dreams were undisturbed and relaxing, snapshots of happiness that bought a smile to his sleeping face. Glancing into the lounge, Ross smiled as he saw the peaceful expression on Smith’s face as he slept.

Quietly, he snuck into the room and sat on a separate sofa, overlooking Smith. Watching the auburn haired man quietly, he memorized every brief flicker of expression that crossed his face as he napped. He could’ve sat there for hours, entranced by Smith’s mere presence, despite him being unconscious.

As the evening wore on, he decided to make dinner. Quietly he stood and padded, barefoot, past Smith. He wasn’t quite quiet enough, and a long arm snaked out to grab Ross by his wrist. Stopping in shock, Ross was pliant as Smith reached up for him and pulled him onto the sofa next to him. Laying next to the auburn giant, Smith buried his face in the crook of Ross’ neck and was almost instantly asleep again.

As he lay there, Ross mused over his being used as a giant teddy bear. Smith’s arm shifted around him, pulling him tighter as he came to the conclusion he didn’t really mind. If anything, he rather enjoyed it.

Smith’s dad peeked in, giving the two of them an affectionate glance. Catching his eye, with the most absurd mime ever, Ross conveyed what was meant to be for dinner. Nodding in approval, Peter left and instantly began to work his way round the kitchen. Occasionally he popped back in, to signal for the onions or where some chili powder was, but mainly found his way round the kitchen by himself.

As the scents of frying vegetables and meat permeated through the house, Ross grew restless, eager to help with cooking, but the solid weight and heat of Smith kept him tethered to the sofa, comfortable in the taller man’s arms.

—

He woke when Peter shook his shoulder. Together they got Smith up and to the table, laughing quietly at his disoriented state. Sat at the table, almost shell-shocked, it took Ross five attempts to get Smith to pass him the pepper.

As Smith slowly woke up, Ross dug into his ratatouille with gusto. Keeping an eye on his best mate, Ross made his way through the delicate layers of sliced aubergines, tomato sauce and meat. It was great, far better than he could have made it, and possibly even nicer than his mum’s, though he’d never tell her that.

Across the table, Smith carefully picked up his fork and scooped up a small mouthful. Chewing slowly and halfheartedly, the mouthful disappeared. As the meal progressed, and Smith woke up fractionally more, until he was asking for seconds. Eventually Smith was no longer doing a sterling impression of a zombie, and poured himself a beer.

—

Quickly cleaning up afterwards, and giving the table a cursory wipe down with a damp cloth, Ross checked his phone. The battery power had sunk down to 4%. Walking upstairs, he met Smith on the landing, both of them heading into his room. Grabbing his charger from his bag, Ross plugged it in quickly. He was reaching for the cable when Smith beat him to it, swiftly plugging in his own phone.

The phone gave a soft, reassuring beep to confirm the connection. Mock-scowling at Smith, Ross glanced at the phone. 40%! He swiftly removed the cable and plugged his own phone in. Smith’s eyes glinted, and he grabbed at the cable again.

Quickly, it became a game, trying to beat each other to the cable. Ross wrestled Smith to the ground, pressing heavily into his stomach as he straddled him, batting his hands away from his phone quietly charging a meter away.

His hands pressed into Smith’s wrists, keeping him pinned to the floor as the charge on his phone quietly clocked up. Glancing back down at Smith, Ross saw the bright eyes darkened with something he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

Smith moved so quickly, Ross couldn’t have reacted. Twisting his hips, he flipped Ross onto his back. Laughing in disbelief as Smith crawled onto him, effectively reversing their positions, Ross grabbed his wrists again, pulling Smith close so he couldn’t pinch his charger.

Smith’s nose was almost touching his, and Ross could feel his heart racing in his mouth at their closeness. A small voice in his head was egging him on, telling his to grab Smith’s collar and kiss the living daylights out of him. The expressions passing fluidly over Smith’s face weren’t helping either, traces of desperation and… lust? Shaking his head to clear it, Ross pushed Smith off him.


	10. A family gathering

Smith woke, for a need that wasn’t particularly uncommon in the morning. A glance at the clock told him it was almost ten, and he should probably get up soon. Yet, he was comfortable here with a warm arm nestled under his head and another looped over his waist. Warm breath was tickling his ear, and soft hair was gently caressing the nape of his neck. He decided to wait it out, despite his discomfort.

After maybe ten minutes, Ross woke. Smith could tell the second he came to, as he snuggled further into his back, before realizing himself and he stiffened in shock, backing away from Smith a little.

“Morning.” Smith began to lazily stretch.

“Hey.” Ross instantly withdrew. Smith almost regretted his movement.

He got out of bed carefully, ensuring he never let his lap be exposed. Grabbing his towel from the radiator, Smith casually held it in front of his (rather impressive) erection. “I’m just going to shower, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Ross smiled at him from the bed, “I’ll follow you when you’re done?” Smith tried to ignore how cute he looked, all messy haired and drowsy eyes. It wasn’t a sight he’d mind seeing most mornings, if he was honest with himself. He shook himself out of thinking about how comfortable Ross seemed in his bed. These thoughts were not going to help at the minute.

“Yeah, um, ok” For god’s sake, did he have to act like an awkward teenager around Ross? It was only a crush for heaven’s sake. Smith quickly went into the bathroom, turning the shower down as low as he could and stepping in quickly. Though it still took several minutes of thinking about grannies and clowns before he could turn the heat back up.

Ross waited outside the bathroom, aware of the prune lurking down the other end of the corridor. Eventually, Smith emerged in a miniature cloud of steam and a towel. He gave a little start when he saw Ross, but recovered quickly. Ross discretely pointed out the prune. He gave Smith three winks, the signal for evasion plan b.

Thinking quickly, back to when they were planning and remembering the move, Smith pulled him into an embrace, and bent Ross backwards quickly, almost like he was going in to kiss him, their faces centimeters apart. “Eww… morning breath.” Ross patted Smith on the cheek instead, grinning at his expression of mock hurt.

“Well, if that’s how it is…” Smith gave him a little smile and headed off to the bedroom. Ross walked into the bathroom, his mind suddenly full of Smith. How good he looked flushed and wet from the shower. How Ross could feel exactly where they’d pressed together, however briefly it’d been for, like he’d soaked up some of the residual heat lingering on Smith from his shower.

Splashing water in his face, Ross berated himself. Quickly he washed, leaving the bathroom in record time. The prune stormed past him, near shoving him out of the way the second he left. Retreating to the bedroom, Smith grinned at him. “We’re going out today.”

“Where?”

“Dunno, Peter’s idea.” Smith pulled his trousers on, hopping on one leg to pull them all the way up. Reaching around, he threaded in his belt and buckled up.

Suddenly aware of his limited clothing supply, Ross glanced up at Smith. “What are you wearing?”

Smith indicated to his one of his button up shirts. “It’s smart casual.”

“Can I steal a shirt? I’ve only got t-shirts.” Ross had borrowed Smith’s clothes before; they were pretty much the same size.

Smith rooted through his closet. “Sure.” Smith chucked him a shirt, hanger still attached. “It’ll bring out the blue in your eyes.” He grinned teasingly.

Blushing at the hidden compliment, Ross busied himself with getting the hanger from the shirt. “Whatever, twat.”

—

They drove in two cars. Smith’s parent’s car only fitted two people, and Beatrice was damned if she was sharing the back seat with a dog. Ross rode shotgun with Smith, Oscar perched on his lap. They took a selfie before they went, posting it on twitter and tagging Trott, mocking him. They laughed at his response: ‘FUCKING TWATS :( ’

Heading off, they drove for about two hours, ending up at a posh mansion house. They parked up and entered, Oscar on a leash. Walking in, Smith let a string of profanities leave his mouth. “What’s up?”

“It’s a fucking family gathering.” Smith sighed, rubbing his hand across his face absently.

Ross squinted at him. “Is that bad?”

“They’re going to introduce us as partners. Are you ok with this?” Smith trailed off, cursing under his breath.

“Yeah!” Don’t sound too eager Ross. “I mean… It’s fine. What’s the worst that could happen?”

—

The dinner was planned to take hours, running through into the night. Almost constantly, Ross and Smith were scrutinized. It took Ross all but hanging onto Smith, pecking him on the cheek constantly, to convince his family he was even slightly gay. They asked incredibly intrusive questions, about their first date, home and even their sex life. At that point Ross went beetroot and Smith wasn’t much paler. Making their excuses, they hid behind a sculpture.

“Jeez Smith.” Ross was aware of both their blushes, his face uncomfortably warm.

Smith pulled a face, “I know. I should’ve been expecting something like this. I’m sorry…”

“Is there anything we can do to stop them?” Ross was determined to enjoy the rest of the evening despite the intrusive company.

“Apart from snogging in front of them, no.” Glancing at Ross, Smith recognized the determined set to his mouth. “Ross you cannot be serious.” For someone supposedly straight, he had a strange way of showing it.

Ross smiled at him coyly. “What? It’ll get them off out back….”

—

“So here?” Ross looked around. They were stood on an intricately carved balcony, overlooking the main room. Below them, people milled, socializing and laughing.

Smith gulped, hard. “Yeah, they’ll definitely see us.”

“So we just um…” Stepping closer, Ross angled his head before bursting out laughing.

Smiling back, Smith contemplated the ridiculousness of the situation. He smoothed a hand up, onto Ross’ shoulder, sobering up. Leaning in, Smith let a little of his care for the man in front of him bleed into his gaze. Almost without thinking, he leant forwards a little and pressed his lips to Ross’. Smith could feel Ross stiffening against him, before he relaxed and wrapped his arms around his neck.

Ross felt the shock of the kiss through him as his heart stuttered. It was quick and gentle, but incredibly sweet and satisfying. Smith leant back a little, looking Ross in the eye and cleared his throat, rubbing a hand through his hair.

Ross’ eyes were shining. He leant tentatively forwards and that was all it took for Smith to recapture his lips. To Ross, it was as if time had stopped, and the only thing that mattered, the only thing that could ever matter, was the taste of Smith’s breath and the soft warmth of his mouth.

Letting his body take over, Ross deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing Smith’s as he pulled him closer. Smith’s arms wrapped almost suffocatingly around his back as he responded, body pressing to his. The room span and then they were leaning up against the wall, shamelessly grinding against each other. Ross could feel Smith’s hand on his arse even as he snuck his hands up the redhead’s shirt, tracing hipbones with the ends of his fingers.

Pulling back, Ross rested his forehead on Smith’s, panting heavily, grinning. Pulling him back with a moan, Smith fisted his hand in Ross’ hair. Ross could feel his grin as their teeth clashed, smile fierce against his own.

—

They sat at the table, being served dessert. Smith’s shirt was still a little rumpled, Ross’ hair mussed, but other than that, there was no proof of what had happened. The prune glared at them. It’d been her who’d stormed up to them dragged them off each other. Grabbing hands behind her, the two men had sheepishly made their way down the central staircase, ignoring the entirety of Smith’s family staring at them in shock.

“What are you going to have mate?”

Ross glanced over at Smith. “I’m stuffed. Just pick what you want. I don’t think I could eat another bite.”

“You’re missing out.” Smiling at the waitress, Smith ordered his dessert and two spoons. It arrived quickly, a plate of treacle sponge that made Ross’ mouth water despite his over-stuffed stomach. Smith lathered custard over it, spooning up a good mouthful and holding it out to Ross. Against his better judgment, Ross let himself be fed.

Almost moaning with how good it was, Ross chewed. The treacle coated his tongue, filling his mouth with the sweet, moreish taste. Smith smiled at him affectionately, spooning up another mouthful and eating. Together, they ate the whole thing, with Ross spooning the sauce off the plate at the very end. Laughing at his friend, who was ‘too full’ to even contemplate looking at the dessert menu now polishing off his pudding, Smith ran his hand affectionately through Ross’ spiky hair. Ross grabbed his hand, turning it over and pressing a kiss to his palm. Smiling in shock, Smith leant in, giving him a brief squeeze.

—

The drive back was dark and lonesome. Ross had fallen asleep next to him, his head bobbing with every turn, rise and dip of the road. Oscar lay across the back, head on paws, quietly watching out of the window.

Smith sang quietly to himself as he drove, half forgotten songs he’d sung years ago. Equally, he watched the road and Ross. He couldn’t stop it. He kept glancing over at the dark haired man, watching the shadows crossing his face as they passed under streetlights.

Carefully, he avoided potholes and speed bumps, taking them slowly so as not to disturb his passengers. Turning into his drive smoothly, he hopped out. Unlocking the back so Oscar could leave, Smith made his way round to the passenger side, opening the door and shaking Ross gently.

The dark haired man opened his eyes sleepily. Smith grabbed his hand and helped him out, guiding him upstairs. “Come on mate. Let’s go to bed.”


	11. Jogging

Beatrice was in a huff from yesterday’s events, Ross could tell. The second he saw her, her lips twisted distastefully. Apart from that, she refused to acknowledge his presence. Ignoring her behavior, he quickly made Oscar breakfast. Placing it on fresh newspaper, Ross straightened up. The second he saw food, Oscar ran to his bowl, scampering straight between Ross’ legs. Laughing at his daft mutt, Ross tried to walk away from him, made difficult as Oscar kept twisting his back, trapping his legs.

Finally his brain kicked in, and Ross lifted a leg, stepping over the pooch. Giving him a cursory stroke, Ross started making himself some breakfast. Eating quickly, he stood at the counter, giving the prune some room to sulk. Shoving his bowl in the dishwasher, he grabbed Oscar’s leash and walked him round the block.

Pausing just out of sight of the house, Ross sat on a neighbor’s wall. Head in hands, he let his mind wander back to yesterday, and the truly spectacular kiss he’d been subject to. He didn’t know if he’d be able to look Smith in the eye the same way again. Truth was, he wanted to do it again. He didn’t regret it. Far from it. He was just concerned about Smith’s potential reaction.

Ross knew Smith was far more – well – outgoing in the partners department. It was rare they’d go out drinking without him getting kisses (and usually more) from at least one person. And it mean almost nothing to Smith. The next day, he wouldn’t moon over the person he’d spent the night with; he’d already be looking forwards to the next experience.

And, knowing this, Ross didn’t want to address the issue. To have something that meant so much to him, be treated like nothing, it’d crush him inside. Whistling for Oscar, he decided to take another lap. Jogging, he ran through the empty streets, putting his thoughts behind him. Making yet another lap as he slunk past Smith’s house.

Eventually he had to stop running. It wasn’t until he was red-faced, sweating buckets and could barely breath he was panting so hard that he condescended defeat. He hurriedly walked into the house, chugging back a glass of water and making his way to the shower.

He stood under the spray, letting his body temperature get back to normal, occasionally opening his mouth and drinking some of the water. Scrubbing the sweat off his body quickly, Ross left the shower, toweling off. Leaving with his towel around his waist, he ducked into Smith’s room.

Cursing internally when he saw Smith laid out on the bed, Ross made his way to the wardrobe, grabbing the first set of clothes he came upon. Pulling them on roughly, Ross changed with his back to Smith. He didn’t see the auburn haired man’s eyes opening, too absorbed in trying to get his hand through this bloody armhole. The sound of the material stuck over his head masked the bedsprings creaking as Smith got up.

“You were up early.” Smith’s voice, almost accusatory, cut through the near-silence, startling Ross. As he listened closely, he could hear the taller man prowling behind him. Smith’s hands made his way onto Ross’ shoulders, tugging and pulling the fabric as he attempted to free the smaller man. Painstakingly, he yanked at the cloth, tugging the shirt into a decent shape.

Standing there in shame at being defeated by a fucking t-shirt, Ross nodded. Realizing Smith couldn’t see his head, he had no choice but to answer and break the awkward silence. “I took Oscar out for a walk.” Submitting to Smith sorting him out, Ross stood still, arms stuck above his head. Feeling the need to fill the silence, he spoke. “I’m surprised you noticed. You were pretty deeply asleep.”

Smith’s hand snuck into his shirt, trailing along his chest until he could grab Ross’ hand. “It’s hard not to notice when your pillow disappears.” Pulling quickly, Smith released Ross from the human pretzel he’d turned himself into. Skimming his hands over Ross’ chest, Smith smoothed the shirt across his torso and shoulders, neatening him up while rigorously avoiding eye contact. Turning away, he headed into the bathroom, the door almost slamming behind him.

—

The tension from this morning had slowly evaporated, with only a slight underlying strain between the two men. Smith had slowly let go of whatever Ross had done without comment. He was back to his normal self, and even more exasperating than ever.

Sat on the sofa, Beatrice and Peter opposite them, they were talking. Well, Ross and Peter were. Beatrice was feigning interest in a magazine and Smith was talking to Oscar as he brushed him thoroughly.

After a while, Smith began leaning on Ross, attempting to brush his hair with Oscar’s brush. Laughingly pushing him off, Ross continued his conversation. Smith came back, again having a stab at his head with his brush. The third time, Ross caught him off guard, wrenching the brush from his hands and setting it the nearest shelf of the bookcase by him.

Smiling back at Peter, Ross scrambled to remember their conversation. They’d just gotten back into their natter when Smith draped himself over Ross, stroking a hand through his hair. Melting a little into the heat of Smith and the small patterns he’d begun to smooth into his scalp, Ross stuttered.

Sensing his son was not going to leave his boyfriend alone, Peter checked the time. Standing, he grinned at Ross and asked he’d what he’d want for dinner. After giving him the number of their favorite take away, Peter grabbed his phone and left the room.

Leaning into Smith, Ross was surprised to feel him move backwards. Chasing the heat, Ross found himself near lying on Smith as the auburn haired man tenderly rubbed at his scalp. Closing his eyes with a sigh, Ross lounged on Smith.

The redhead smiled to himself as he felt Ross relax. With the care and precision of a surgeon, he began to stroke firmly along Ross’ skull. He bit back a grin when Ross sighed as he reached the nape of his neck.

Making it his mission to extract as many delicious sounds from the man as possible, Smith began to deliberately map the areas of Ross’ head he reacted to being touched most. Swishing his hands through the short soft hair Smith extracted several hums and a few whines. As he was making his way more towards Ross’ temples, the smaller man moaned, a shameless sound that made it’s way straight to Smith’s gut.

His mother glared at him. Smirking back at her, Smith drew another wanton groan from Ross. Scowling, she left the room, chased out with another two whimpers. Smiling at how receptive Ross was, Smith put his full focus now on making him as relaxed as possible.

After rubbing most of the tension from his scalp, Smith began to just run his fingers through Ross’ hair, enjoying the feeling of caring for the dark haired man. Peter came in, pausing the sight of them.

“Alex. If you two are free, dinner’s here.” Glancing at his dad, Smith let himself smile at him.

“Thanks. We’ll be in a minute.” Peter paused, surprised at the grin, but left. Smith shook Ross out of his stupor, helping him stand. Linking their hands thoughtlessly, Smith led Ross to the table.

—

They sat together after dinner, Oscar between them. Glancing at the dog, Smith howled. Oscar’s ears perked up, so Smith howled again. Ross glanced at him, before howling too. Pretty soon, they were both howling at the confused dog.

After a while, Oscar sat up, hackles raised. Throwing back his head, he gave out a small bark, followed by a short, whiney howl. Laughing in celebration, Smith petted Oscar as Ross fetched him a treat. Tossing it to him, Ross threw himself down in front of the tv.

Smith joined him, booting up his Wii. Tossing him a remote, Smith slid in a well-used disc. He wouldn’t admit it, but the man from the so-called pc master race was a succor for Nintendo, despite his laughing at Ross being a console scrub.

As he plonked himself down next to Ross, Mario Cart loaded, and instantly they were locked in a battle. Jostling each other, the two men raced around the tracks they knew almost by heart. Smith was regretting sitting so close to Ross – cuddling was a distraction he couldn’t afford himself.

Beside him, Ross had his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated, in it to win it. They both drifted furiously round corners, swearing as the npc’s threw shells, bombs and banana skins at them.

At the podiums, Ross grinned at Smith. “EAT SHIT!!!” His character was in 8th, a single point above Smith. Growling in frustration, Smith put down his remote.

Smirking at him, Ross slid another disk into the machine. Offering Smith the second player, he loaded up Mario Galaxy. As he was playing through the world, Smith’s head lowered onto Ross’ shoulder. Keeping up a steady stream of commentary as he played, mainly siding with the baddies and giving them brief, tragic backstories. As Ross finished the garden dome, he glanced at Smith. He’d been almost silent in the final boss battle, totally unlike him.

The auburn haired man was asleep on his shoulder. Unwilling to wake him by changing games, Ross smiled to himself and sent Mario running into the library.


	12. Domestic Fluff

Ross was once again cooking breakfast for Smith’s pedantic parents. Egg white only omelets, with free-range ham for Peter and some posh smelly cheese for Beatrice. He started with whipping up several egg whites, saving the yolks for later. He could use them to make ice cream or custard or something. Smith’d like that.

Grabbing a heavy bottomed pan, he let it heat up with a shot of oil as he sliced the ham into julienne, and shredded the cheese. Quickly seasoning the eggs, he was ready to assemble. The egg went in first, half sprinkled with cheese, half with the ham. Ross carefully scooped round the edge of the omelets, so none of it would stick, and then waited for the bottom to cook.

After a few minutes, bubbles started to rise through the mixture. Ross grabbed a wooden spatula, carefully sliding along the bottom of the pan and loosening off the omelet. Picking up another spatula, he carefully lifted the omelets between the two implements. Holding his breath and praying, he flipped the omelet over, sighing in relief when it landed squarely. The most difficult bit over; he grabbed the eggs shells and rinsed them out as the bottom cooked.

Quickly wiping down the surfaces with a damp rag, Ross made his way round the kitchen, giving it a cursory once over. It was clean enough for now. Lobbing the cloth back in the sink, he grabbed his spatulas again and checked breakfast. It looked cooked, so he slit it exactly down the divide, plating it up on two plates, and adding dollops of crème fraiche and chives to the plates, then a handful of tomatoes to the ham omelet, and a sliver of pate to the cheese one. He brought them quickly to the table, and presented them.

Beatrice looked up from her paper, her eyes narrowing piggishly at the food, “Took you long enough, didn’t it.” She quickly grabbed her plate and began to shovel the food into her maw. Peter was far more refined, taking the plate from him and giving a small nod of appreciation. Taking the cue, Ross backed away from the table, wiping his hands down his trousers, cursing under his breath when he left an egg stain.

Running a sink of hot water, he began to scrub the pan clean so he could fry something else up. In the quiet of the kitchen, the squeal of the bottom step was loud. Keeping his eyes focused ahead, he could hear Smith sneaking up behind him. The taller man pulled him to his chest, his arms snaking around his chest “Morning, you.” Smith dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

“Morning.” Ross relaxed back into his arms, his head instinctively rolling to the side slightly to rest again Smith’s shoulder. He bit back a smile as Smith’s cheek slowly trailed down his. “I’m just about to make breakfast. What do you want?”

“You know, I’d love some nice meaty sausage.” Ross snorted at that.

“Put it back in your pants, mate. Maybe later. If you’re lucky.” Smith’s chest vibrated with barely concealed laughter at the loud harrumphing from the table. “I can do an omelets now though.”

“Omelet you in on a secret.” Ross gave a little groan at the bad pun. “You and I would Brie perfectly Gouda together.”

“Well, life would be feta if we were together.” Smith leant down, pressing a small kiss to the back of Ross’ neck, a little thrill going through him at the unthinking hum Ross gave out.

“Yeah, we’ll be grate.” Smith’s arms tightened around Ross’ chest, and Ross could hear the smirk in his voice. “Well, I’ll let you get on that. I’ll make coffee.”

“Yeah, that’d be brilliant.” Pressing a kiss to Smith’s cheek as he walked away, Ross beamed.

—

Smith was almost bouncing in his chair as Ross finished his omelet. Grinning over the table at him, Ross gave him his full attention. Smirking at the interest, Smith leant back and grabbed something out of his pocket. Watching him intently, Ross saw the slips of paper. Puzzling over them for a moment, his eyes met Smith’s quizzically.

“Want to go see a movie?” Smith smiled at him, showing Ross the tickets.

Peering at the tickets, he smiled. “You know me too well, mate.”

—

They stood outside the cinema together. Trott and Katie stood next to them. Smith’s mum had refused to come out with them – she didn’t want to be seen with the likes of them. Peter had stayed home with her, pretty resentfully, Ross thought.

It’d meant Smith had two spare tickets, and a best friend a phone call away.

The two men had forgotten to switch off their act for Smith’s parents. The look Trott gave them when he saw them walking towards them made them drop hands quickly. They handed Trott his tickets, and they entered the cinema.

They’d arrived late, and couldn’t find enough room to all sit together. Smith and Ross headed near the back while Trott and Katie filled the front row. Settling down quickly, popcorn between them, the two men began quietly chatting. It was only the adverts, after all.

As they were munching through their family-sized box and sipping cokes, the movie began. To his dismay, Ross instantly looked upset at the film. A few minutes later, Smith too was disappointed. The re-remake of the original Star Wars left a lot to be desired.

In front of him, the majority of the hardcore nerds were shaking their heads. The room was full of disgruntled people cheated out of a tenner. It didn’t take long for someone to snap. Near the front row, a blue haired girl stood, swearing viciously at the screen and leaving.

The room fell to riot, people yelling and throwing popcorn at the screen before exiting. The room emptied quickly, trodden in food and spilt drinks everywhere. Smith, scowling, grabbed Ross’ hand and pulled him away from the crowd. Sneaking into the back of another cinema room they sunk into some of the seats, the movie theatre half empty.

Sinking back in glee, Ross began to watch Guardians of the Galaxy. It wasn’t really bad, he rationalized to himself, as they sat in their unpaid for seats. They’d paid to see a movie, and now they were watching one.

—

They left the cinema quickly, blinking at the harsh sunlight after two hours in several darkened rooms. Linking hands almost automatically, Ross led Smith away from the cinema, towards the nearest park. They were both pretty full, they hadn’t thrown their snacks away, and had each eaten enough popcorn for two people.

Sitting on the grass, they lay out and enjoyed the rare English sunshine. Neither of them really spoke, a companionable silence growing between the two of them. It was odd, these moments of quiet. It was rare they didn’t talk as if in one of their videos, constant banter and overlapping thoughts, a persistent cacophony of noise.

After a while though, Smith began absently humming. Listening closely, Ross could hear a familiar but forgotten tune. It was only when the redhead opened his mouth and began to sing that he recognized the tune. It was one of their old parody songs, before they actually got decent.

Listening to his best mate singing, Ross felt another rush of affection for the auburn haired man. He already loved him, but if anything, he was falling more and more for him. Smiling to himself, he glanced over at Smith.

Meeting Smith’s bright blue eyes, he turned his head away. Feeling heat beginning to rise to his face, Ross wondered why Smith had been looking at him. He hadn’t been checking him out, had he? That’d be absurd!

He kept his face turned away, missing how an undercurrent of red ran under Smith’s stubble. Ross’d also missed the appreciative glance his arse had been given. Sitting up, Smith sighed loudly and ran his hand through his unruly hair.

—

Time passed, and Ross’ embarrassment faded. Sitting up against a tree, he watched as Smith walked towards an ice cream store had been eyeing up for a while. He’d insisted in going and getting Ross a surprise.

It didn’t take long for Smith to return, a cone in each hand. Passing Ross a cone, he examined the layers. A white, sorbet like ball sandwiched between a scoop of neon blue and one of bright red. Taking a tentative lick, he ran his tongue over all three. It tasted sweet, with a slight aftertaste not dissimilar to nail polish. Overall, it was pretty nice. Looking at Smith curiously, he took another lick.

To his surprise, Smith blushed a little, before getting a handle on himself. Dragging his filthy mind from Ross lapping a bulbous object below him, he scolded himself yet again. Ross. Not a fuck buddy. Taking a taste of his own, he grinned.

“It’s good, isn’t it.” Grinning freely, Smith felt a familiar buzz go down his spine, and pondered the proof of the ice cream. He could probably get drunk off this.

“Yeah. What is it though?” Ross looked at him quizzically, taking another lick. Smith averted his eyes, ignoring the brief flash of arousal Ross’ lips round the cone caused.

He pushed aside the thought, and smiled neutrally at Ross. “It’s vodka ice cream.”

“How the hell did you find that?” Trust Smith to find the only alcoholic ice cream stand this side of Bristol.

“The shop over there,” Gesturing vaguely in the general vicinity of the shop he’d come from, Smith twisted and took another lick. “They sell it.”

“So, I’m guessing, the top one has…” Ross took an inquisitive lick. He wasn’t great with liquor knowledge, but the distinctive fruity flavor and redness gave this one away immediately. “Grenadine, then…” another lick, and a sweet lemony taste washed over his palate. “Something lemony…” Another lick. This one was harder to place. “And then…” completely bluffing it, and guessing by the electric blue color. “Curaçao?”

“Yep. The middle layer’s Limoncello. Home made by the owner.” It was probably Smith’s favorite scoop. Making a mental note to go back there, he took another lick, rolling the taste round his mouth

—

They were both buzzing pleasantly by the time they’d finished their ice cream. Inebriated enough to do something daft, Ross set his mind to climbing a tree. He got up there fairly quickly, Smith standing below him, just incase he fell.

Getting down proved a problem. At the top of the tree, Ross froze up. After several minute of trying to talk Ross down, Smith climbed up. Carefully, he approached Ross and guided him down the tree, physically moving Ross’ limbs when he had to.

Leaping from the lowest branch, Smith held his arms out for Ross. Grabbing his hand, the dark haired man jumped, bending his knees on impact. Stumbling a little, Smith grabbed him. Laughing with relief at getting down in one piece, Ross pulled him into a brief hug.

Looking round, Smith saw a distinctive head of red hair. Groaning in dismay, he grabbed Ross and hid round the other side of the tree.

Looking around in confusion, Ross clung to Smith tighter. “Why are we here?”

“My mum’s here.” She was walking Oscar, holding hands with his dad. It was the first time he’d seen her look happy in a long time. The thought of his mum being happy around him sent a painful pang of longing through him.

“Why don’t we just kiss and send her running?” Ross focused on Smith’s face, his hands coming up to rest under his jaw.

Shaking Ross off, Smith sighed. Despite the want to kiss Ross senseless, he really didn’t want to pressure the smaller man to do anything. “She hadn’t seen us yet. There’s no point.”

“What if I want to?” One of Ross’ hands moved, cupping the back of his neck. His fingers laced into the curls at the bottom of Smith’s neck, pulling a little. Smith’s back erupted in goose bumps. The power this man had on him was astounding.

Averting Ross’ eyes. Oh god… his sea glass eyes. Meeting Ross’ eyes, Smith spoke. “You don’t mean that.”

Ross met his eyes seriously, “Maybe I do…” His tongue darted out; nervously licking his lips before he moved, face suddenly millimeters from Smith’s. His lips so close Smith could feel the heat radiating from them onto his. Near moaning with want and need, he closed the gap between them.


	13. Even more domestic fluff

When Ross woke, Smith was still sleeping. He was spooning the taller man and could feel his body pressed flush to his hips, his morning wood pressed firmly to his arse. Ross moved away quickly when he realised, not wanting to make Smith feel uncomfortable about them sharing a bed. After all, they’d only kissed once.

He couldn’t control his bodily reactions, and stepped into the shower with a sigh, taking himself in hand gingerly. Already, he could feel a spool of arousal coiling round the base of his spine, and it only took a little urging before the heat spread, pooling into his belly and chest. Ross began to let his mind wander, conjuring to x-rated images of Smith he’d rather die than share with him. As his motions became more frantic, he bit down on his forearm and leant up against the wall, working furiously.

Outside, Smith stood by the door. He’d felt as Ross slipped away from him and had dressed quickly, waiting for him so they could go down for breakfast together. It’d been 15 minutes since Ross had turned the shower on, and the boiler wasn’t exactly great. He didn’t want the cold to turn on Ross unexpectedly. As he was considering how best to phrase his concern, he heard a little groan.

Smith pushed his ear up to the door. Ross hadn’t fallen over had he? Listening intently, another groan trickled out. Smith was half considering knocking the door down when he heard a muffled cry of his name. Another moan, then the shower abruptly turned off. His cheeks flushed as he realized what had taken Ross so long, and he quickly made his way downstairs.

-

Ross preheated the oven, blissfully unaware of what Smith knew and happy after a pleasant breakfast with Peter. He watched as the light switched on and the heat started up. He turned the knob carefully round until it reached 190oC. The dial lit up to show him the slow progress of the thermostat as the oven started to preheat.

He gathered his ingredients, grabbing butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla extract and baking soda. Then he pulled out a bowl and a wooden spoon before washing his hands and a set of measuring cups.

He tipped two and three quarter cups of flour into the bowl, adding half of a teaspoon of baking powder and a teaspoon of baking soda. He gave the dry ingredients a quick stir, mixing them before pulling out a second bowl.

He creamed a cup of butter with a cup and a half of the white sugar, dipping his finger in for a quick taste of the sweet mixture before adding an egg and a teaspoon of vanilla extract, mixing them through.

He started adding the dry mixture, a bit at a time before it became a crumbly dough. He kneaded it a little, wrapping it in clingfilm and leaving it in the fridge for half an hour while he had a cup of tea and a chat with Peter.

-

Ross shaped the cookies carefully, rolling little balls - roughly the size of a walnut - of the dough, laying them out neatly on the cookie sheets before realising he’d forgotten the chocolate chips. Rather than start the whole process again he rolled each ball quickly with the chips. Hoping for the best he stuck the tray into the oven, walking away while they baked.

Ross started to clean up as he waited. The sweet smell of baking filled the room as he licked the mixing bowl clean, washing it thoroughly and putting it out to dry. He wiped down the counters too, swiping over the surface with a damp cloth.

-

Once the cookies had cooled he put the majority of them into a tupperware, plonking a few onto a plate and walking through to the lounge. Smith was lay on one sofa, Oscar sat on his feet as he edited a video.

He moved quietly, holding a cookie out towards smith. The auburn haired han opened his mouth obediently, fingers typing away as Ross carefully placed the cookie between his teeth. Smith bit down immediately as Ross pulled the cookie away.

“These are really good mate!”

He smirked, taking a bite for himself. “I thought you’d say that.” He knew Smith didn’t like many types of overly sweet foods, hence the slightly more bitter dark chocolate chips instead of his normal milk chocolate chunks he’d use. “There’s plenty more through in the kitchen if you want any.” He left the plate of cookies at Smith’s side along with a cup of tea before shifting Oscar to take him for a quick run.

-

The two of them were working, sat in Smith’s study and editing furiously. All of a sudden reality had caught up on the two of them, and the large amount of videos they needed ready to put out was forefront of this issue.

Ross beatboxed quietly as he cut and mashed the points of view together, Smith occasionally joining in with half a line from one song or another, neither neally paying attention to what the other was doing.

Oscar whined to be let in at one point, so Smith stood. He made a quick lap of the room, sniffing at the table, chairs and Ross’ feet before walking back out. He knew better than to think he could disturb the dark haired man for cuddles when he was working this intently.

It took hours of intent work before they’d even come close to finishing what needed to be done, but the videos for the first half of next week were completed. Ross loaded them all up into various drives and memory sticks, handing them to Smith. The auburn haired man drove to the office, dropping them off with Minty. She took them with a smile, promising that Trott would get them right away. On his way back, Smith popped into the corner store to grab more milk and teabags, plus a bar of Kinder Bueno.


	14. This is totally how you act around your best mate when you don't fancy the pants off him, right?

The next morning, both men were starving. They got up quickly, near running downstairs. A surprisingly delightful sight reached them. Smith’s dad stood at the stove, frying a pan of bacon. Eagerly, they sat at the table.

After a few minutes of silent anticipation, he served up, giving both of them a few rashers. Looking at each other in shock at how nice he was being, Smith just shrugged, digging in. Ross followed his example, loading up his fork and digging in. The three men sat around the table, talking quietly, pleasantly.

The topic moved from football to racing to gaming. So much so, Smith suggested a Just Dance competition. Eagerly, Peter agreed, a wide, honest smile breaking across his pale face. They were halfway through an in-depth conversation about the logics of space geckos when the bottom stair creaked.

Instantly Peter closed off, scowling at the two men. The prune walked through the door, glowering at him. When her back turned, he mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ with an apologetic smile. Peter stood up, making Beatrice some breakfast, in the same pedantic way she had to have it.

Smith finished in a matter of seconds, rushing down his plate and making his excuses. Although a little slower, Ross also left soon. It was clear Beatrice wanted to eat alone yet again. Quickly, he followed Smith into the lounge.

The auburn giant was lying on the sofa, cuddling Oscar with all his might, a morose look on his face. “You ok mate?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Smith glanced up at him, eyes too wide to be honest, lip shaking slightly.

Unsure of what to do, Ross hesitated. “I dunno, you just, well, look upset.”

“Well, I’m not. Don’t worry yourself mate!” A smile forced its way across Smith’s face, believable but for the lack of twinkle in his eyes.

“Are you sure…?” Ross looked sceptically at Smith, obviously not believing him.

Bottom lip jutting out, Smith glanced up at him. Reading his best friend like a book, Ross crawled onto the sofa behind him, an arm threading under Smith’s head, the other snaking round his slim waist. Pulling him closer, Ross rested his face on Smith’s neck and gave him a small kiss.

Instantly, the taller man relaxed into him, his head rolling back. Taking this as his cue, Ross peppered his neck with small kisses. Through the open door, he could see the prune glaring at them. Meeting her gaze defiantly, Ross gently bit Smith’s earlobe.

The shudder that went through the man shocked Ross, nearly as much as the whimper he gave out. “Oh god…” Smith sighed, his breath leaving in a stuttered puff. Laughing at the man’s response, Ross was sorely tempted to try it again.

Letting his breath tickled the shell of Smith’s ear, Ross grinned viciously at the red flush travelling down Smith’s neck. He gently traced the lobe with his tongue. Smith’s lips parted, his breath coming faster and faster.

Deciding to let up on this delicious torturing of Smith, however tempting it was, Ross planted a final kiss on his bearded jaw and lay back down behind him. Smith shifted, turning in his arms to face him. Wrapping his arms around Ross, he buried his face in the crook of his neck, breathing deeply. Smiling and stroking his back, Ross pressed another kiss to his forehead.

Peeking over Smith’s auburn curls, he could see the prune was still looking disgustedly at them. A hand on her shoulder, Peter too was looking over, but his features were softened with happiness. Wondering how such a mismatched pair had come to be, Ross put the thought from his mind and focused on the warm exhales tickling his collarbone.

—

Later, he lay on Smith’s bed, scrolling through tumblr. Going through the hatfilms tag, he found something incriminating. He could remember when, a while ago, someone on tumblr had accused Trott of sharing a pair of striped undies with someone. Now, another side-by-side photo had appeared, of him and Smith with the shirt he’d borrowed for the formal dinner.

Going through the tag extensions, he laughed at many of the fangirl extremoes venting about the cuteness in the tags. He recognized some of the names, from fan arts, asks and their servers. When he checked his inbox, he saw several asks about this same topic.

Deciding honesty was the best policy, but sarcasm could never go amiss, Ross deleted all but one of the asks, and responded to the last one. ‘Obviously Smith and I share clothes. It’s the only way to get him out of burgundy. Lol.”

Hoping people would leave the answer at that, Ross decided that’d do and sent it off. The fanfics, he knew, would already have sparked by the photos. A sarcastic response, even one saying yes, wouldn’t change a thing.

After re-blogging a few of his favourite fan arts under his tag, skirting round a few of the more dubious edits and one fic that had somehow made its way into the tag, Ross logged out.

—

“Ready?” Smith glanced over at his competitor as the fast paced music started.

“You’re doing down, son.” Peter had possibly the biggest grin on his face as he missed the first three moves, getting to grips with the game.

“Never, old man.” Smith laughed, getting a four-move combo before missing the next step, floundering wildly.

Together they powered through the song, Smith scraping three stars while Peter only just missed the boundary for two. Starting another song, Ross laughed at the flushed expression on Peter’s face. The poor man had been putting his all in, only expecting one match. Now up against another player, his face fell slightly.

As the music started, a slightly slower beat, Peter once again put his all in. To his dismay and Smith’s delight, Ross steadily fell behind in score, not even managing one star. Staring in shock at Peter’s four-almost-five result, Ross felt his jaw drop.

Laughing, Peter sat down with a huff, having a pull on his bottle of beer. Smith stood, ready to battle Ross. Embarrassed by his appalling display, Ross was determined to beat Smith. Exaggerating each move, moving as musically as he could, Ross pulled ahead in score.

Glancing over and picking up on what he was doing, Smith copied his strategy. Slowly, his total began to rise until they were neck and neck. A particularly over enthusiastic wave of the arm from Smith, and Ross toppled over, his balance whilst waving on one leg not the greatest.

Instantly, Smith bent to grab him. Laughing despite the twinge in his side, Ross accepted his hand and was pulled to his feet. Watching his total rise a tiny amount above Smith’s in the final standings, Ross laughed gleefully. “Eat shit!”

Grinning back, Smith pulled him close. Looking carefully at his face, he kissed the slight swelling on Ross’ cheek. Feeling himself grin, Ross was tempted to pull him closer, when he realized Peter was still behind them. Pulling away, Ross glanced at him.

Peter looked at them, confused. “What’s wrong?” Quickly putting two and two together, he sighed. “If it’s Beatrice, I have no issue about all… this.” Waving at the two of them, he smiled. “To be honest, it’s nice to see Alex looking happy again.”

In the corner of his eye, Ross saw Smith run a hand through his hair, before sending him an affectionate glance. Blushing at the pure love he saw in his gaze, Ross lowered his eyes and blindly reached out for his hand.

—

Smith lay on the bed, book in hand. He’d recently begun reading Game of Thrones, for the third time. He could hear Ross in the room next to him, showering. Slowly getting absorbed into the plight of the Starks, he chased the story with a passion, reading more into brief moments that he knew were actually massively foreshadowing.

The door opened and Ross climbed into bed beside him. Without looking up from the book, Smith raised an arm. Ross crawled under almost immediately, snuggling into his side. Tilting his head a little to bump Ross’ with, Smith’s arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Looking up from the end of his chapter, Smith looked at Ross. He’d fallen asleep on his shoulder, hand halfway up his chest. Sighing, he switched off his lamp, and then lay down next to Ross, gathering the smaller man up in his arms and pressing sweet kisses to his hairline.


	15. ;)

Rifling through Smith’s wardrobe, Ross grabbed a random shirt from a hanger. Lobbing it at the ginger’s head, he bellowed, “Stick this on, mate!”

“Why?” Smith grabbed the shirt midair, biceps flexing as he automatically pulled it on over his blue t-shirt.

“Because you’ve been moping around for the past day, and if I know Alex Smith, that means he needs a good lay.”

Grinning with slight mortification at how well Ross knew him, Smith pushed down the question lurking in the back of his mind of ‘Could I lay you?’ 

“Here!” Ross chucked a pair of jeans at him too, tight ones Smith barely wore, then rooted back through his drawers. Grabbing an appropriate garment, he tossed the black shirt at Smith. “Stick that on too.”

A smile burst across Smith’s face as it narrowly missed his head. “All right, you twat. Stop throwing shit at me!”

“At least I’m a well-styled twat; you have the same wardrobe variation as a cartoon character.” Ross beamed at him, no malice in his words.

“Ow.” Feigning hurt, Smith started stripping, pulling off the checked shirt. Crossing his arms, he pulled his t-shirt off in one fluid movement. Opposite him, Ross flushed and turned back to the wardrobe. Grabbing himself a pair of jeans from his pile, he debate his shirt choice before switching sides and pinching one of Smith’s polos.

Keeping his back turned, he ignored Smith’s wolf-whistle as he pulled off his shorts, the bolt of heat passing through him brushed off.

Grabbing a spare set of keys from the kitchen table, Ross was ready to go. He may as well be prepared for Smith staying the night somewhere else. A swell of jealously threatened to swamp him, but he pushed it down quickly. Smith wasn’t his, much as he wanted him to be. And a happy Smith was better for everyone, not a horny, broody salt lord.

Giving Smith a quick once over, Ross reached out to tousle the ginger curls, making them that bit wilder. Christ knew he loved Smith’s hair reckless and errant, just like the man himself. Turning away and swallowing, hard, at how good he looked in black, Ross opened the door, dragging the man behind him as they headed out.

—

Smith stood, carelessly chatting with the bartender, and Ross wanted to reach out and throttle him. They’d been out now for nearly two hours and had drunk enough to be pleasantly buzzed. Smith had to be aware of the mob of girls crowded round the other end of the bar, taking it in turns to throw him quite frankly pornographic looks. The man shouldn’t even still be here, normally he’d have already taken his pick and left. Glaring in disgust at one girl, practically flashing him, Ross decided the best thing for the ginger would be a bit of dancing.

Near dragging him onto the floor, Ross instantly started to bounce in time with the heavy bass. Pulling Smith closer to him to force him to jump along, Ross grinned vicariously. Smith threw his head back and laughed, sweat glistening on his neck as he danced, bellowing the lyrics at the top of his voice. Laughing along, Ross grabbed his hand and let himself go with the music.

They were on the floor for an hour, maybe more, just jumping like idiots and dancing like there was no one watching them. They slowly danced closer and closer together, shouting conversations to each other above the throbbing bass and flashing lights.

Smith left the floor to go and grab them drinks, leaving Ross leaning against a wall to get his breath back. Keeping an eye on his retreating back, Ross watched as no less than three girls approached Smith. It was blatantly obvious what they wanted, and he felt the familiar twist of jealousy knifing his stomach. But Smith just turned back towards the bar, clearly dismissing the girls with a swift comment. Ross didn’t miss the scandalized glances shot his way, making him wonder exactly what Smith had said.

They’d been going for hours now, and Ross was enjoying himself far too much. He’d been at Smith’s side all night, and hadn’t been ditched yet. Although Smith was meant to go and get a laid, it seemed like he just couldn’t be bother. Unlike him, but what was Ross going to do. Wrestle him into bed?

—

The door opened quietly, Ross fumbling at the lock and careful to not let it hit the wall. Smith’s arms were looped around his back, nose pressed to his neck. Creeping upstairs, they got to the bedroom without hassle; Smith parent had assumedly fallen asleep hours ago.

Ross shut the door slowly, lifting the latch before pressing the door closed. He turned round, and instantly Smith was upon him. Hands knotted in his hair, mouth pressing bruises in his neck. Fighting back a moan, Ross reciprocated eagerly, kissing every inch of Smith he could reach.

Pulling back, Smith looked Ross dead in the eye. Already his lips were red, swollen with want, eyes dark with need. “If it’s alright with you, I’ll be having my shirt back.”

Smirking, Ross nodded. “You’ll have to get it off me though…” Smith was immediately back on him, hands tugging the hem of his shirt as Ross lifted his arms over his head. Struggling slightly to get his head through the neck hole, Smith carefully detached Ross from the shirt, chucking it over his shoulder and immediately pressing himself into the now bare chest.

Recapturing Smith’s lips, Ross licked his way into his mouth, quiet moans traced into his teeth. Hands were tracing increasingly familiar contours of bodies, quietly and efficiently learning where to hold. Pivoting, using Smith’s slightly bent over position to his advantage, Ross pinned Smith against the wall. Slightly nervous with what he was intending to do, Ross kissed him deeply.

Hands knotting in the collar of his shirt, a fingertip lazily tracing over his beard, Ross pressed himself desperately into Smith, letting his instincts take over. He could feel the taller man’s heartbeat through his chest, mingling just off kilter with his own.

A surge of want spread through him, and Ross was unbuttoning Smith’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with the intensity of a madman. Kissing shadows into the newly exposed skin, his hands crept under Smith’s t-shirt, pushing it out of the way until, with a quiet chuckle, Smith shucked it off.

Hands creeping lower, Smith bit back a moan when Ross palmed the front of his jeans. Head tipping back as a trail was kissed down his chest, Smith could feel himself getting more and more aroused, especially when Ross rubbed his thigh against him.

Quickly, hands were fumbling with his belt, pulling it out with one smooth movement, the leather making a heavy thud as it collided with the floor. Nifty fingers traced his zip, slowly pulling it down. Looking up, eyes meeting Smith’s, Ross checked in with him. At Smith’s barely hidden whine, he grinned and pulled down his boxers, leaving the ginger man fully exposed.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he slowly placed his hand on Smith’s shaft, giving him a few pumps to warm him up a little. Gently lapping at the slit while still moving his hand, Ross lost his nervousness and let himself go, using Smith’s cues to figure out what was best for him.

All too soon, the hand knotted in his hair pulled him back. Looking up in confusion, Ross panicked. Had he done it wrong? Grinning at him, Smith pulled him to his feet, smile crinkling his eyes. Pulling him into a swift kiss, Ross almost missed the whisper.

“Will you fuck me?”

Mouth dry, it was all Ross could do to nod. Meeting Smith’s eye, the ginger smiled, then pulled him back towards the bed. Near collapsing backwards, Ross dragged Smith down with him, simultaneously fumbling with his belt buckle. Smith’s warm, calloused hands batted his aside, making quick work of the zips, buttons and belt.

Shimmying out of them quickly with Smith’s eager hands to help, they were both nude, pressed toe to toe. Grinding together until Smith couldn’t wait anymore, he knelt up, rooting through the bedside cupboard and grabbing some lube and a condom. Throwing them to Ross, he slunk back over, draping himself over his bare chest.

Rolling the two of them over, Smith lay on his back and guided Ross slowly as the dark haired man retraced his previous trail of kisses and nips to his inner thigh. Under careful instruction, Ross poured a liberal amount of lube into his hand, warming it, careful not to spill any.

Rubbing Smith’s pucker, he slowly worked a finger inside, moving it at Smith’s command. Interspacing small movements and additional fingers with distracting kisses and tickles, he followed Smith’s guidance to the letter until he was quietly moaning, biting his hand and almost begging Ross to fuck him into the mattress.

Grabbing the condom and rolling it on, Ross quickly lubed up and approached Smith. Lining up, he slowly pushed in. Smith’s ankles dug into his back, pulling him in until Ross was groaning inside his tight heat.

Moving slowly, Ross rolled his hips. Smith tightened around him, letting out a quiet moan. Together they moved, speed increasing, hips snapping together. Ross bit down into Smith’s shoulder, moaning into his skin, kissing the salt from his neck between breathless curses as his other hand sped up on his cock.

The friction grew, Smith moans became more wanton until Ross lost himself, and sped up, coming in an instant with Smith’s cries only moments behind. Resting for a moment, Ross carefully pulled out, a twist of arousal sparking at the whine Smith gave out.

Tying up his condom, Ross threw it in the bin, grabbed them both pants and got back in bed with Smith, chucking his jeans off the edge of the bed as an afterthought. Cuddling up to him, kissing his back and shoulders as the taller man slowly fell asleep, Ross smiled to himself.


	16. Meeting the parents

They ate breakfast with hastily thrown on pyjama bottoms and a nearly crippling hangover. Smith’s mum tutted but they ignored her, preferring to throw morsels of toast into each other’s mouths, cheering quietly for every one they caught. Although most missed, they were lucky in the fact that Oscar adored toast.

Soon they were getting ready to go out with the other Yogs. Ross borrowed another of Smith’s shirts and put on a pair of smart jeans. He grabbed his tie and carefully started to knot it, but it wouldn’t sit right. It was a fairly new tie, and the starch was keeping it from falling loosely.

Smith came in behind him, stripping off and grabbing new boxers. Ross got a glimpse of his bare arse and whistled with a grin. The taller man came over, resting his chin the top of his head and starting to fix Ross’ tie.

He bit his lip, carefully smoothing the tie into the Windsor bow, completely focused on the task at hand. So focused in fact, that it took his mum to come in she yell at him for flashing the neighbours before he realised he was still pant-less.

For his part, Ross looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the sight in front of him. Although Smith was most definitely attractive, they’d only kissed and he wasn’t sure if he was mentally ready to know rather than guess what was hidden under his jeans, especially since he could only assume Smith had a good lay last night due to the great mood he was in. When’d he asked him earlier, Smith had just blushed, before asking him how much of the night Ross had forgotten and ending the conversation with a comment on not being great with names.

As they left Ross ruffled Smith’s hair, pulling the carefully smoothed curls into a slightly more raucous file of floof. For his part Smith smoothed down the back of his blazer collar, making sure it lay flat.

-=-

The car journey was short and mercifully quiet, with little drama. Smith’s parents were driving them. It made no sense to take two cars, especially as the place they were going had a small car park. Smith sent out a text to the Yogs coming with a small list of things to not mention, including anything not hetero-normative and bugs. His dad would be fine with anything, but he didn’t want to risk his mother going off on one.

-=-

They sat at opposite ends of the table for the whole meal. Ross had a pleasant chat with Kim and Peter, occasionally sending a sympathetic glance down the table. Smith’s end was full of a stony silence, brought about by a puckered mouthed prune. When they paused before dessert, Beatrice demanded to swap places with Peter, probably wanting in on some kind of conversation. There wasn’t one, and it was down to Smith to smile down at Ross, pointedly not making eye contact with his mother. Of course, Lewis tried to make a small bit of conversation with Beatrice. He ordered a gin and tonic a few minutes later.

-=-

The journey back was almost painful, the car silent. Before they’d had the radio on, but Beatrice had turned it off the second she got in the car. Trott was driving Lewis home, laughing as he got into his car. The poor man was slightly pickled.

Smith slipped his hand into Ross’; his callused thumb making steady sweeps over his knuckles. Ross gave his hand a small squeeze, comforting him. Although Peter had made a good impression upon them, he knew Beatrice had been a different story. If she could keep someone as naturally happy and chatty as Kim quiet and sober, then the rest of the Yogs had probably not particularly gotten one with her either.

They went back to Smith’s room when they got home, chatting between themselves as they changed, Ross flopping down onto the bed once he’d done. Smith looked over, pulling up his jogging bottoms before launching himself down next to Ross, resting his head on the dark haired man’s stomach. Ross smiled, carding his fingers through Smith’s curls steadily, giving them the occasional tug as he snuggled closer. Smith absently messed with Ross’ chest hair, stroking small swirls into the dark hair.

It didn’t take long from them to switch places, Ross cuddling up to his side as Smith grabbed his paperback again.

-=-

Smith was absently flicking through the pages of his book, trying desperately to ignore the hand wandering over his sternum. Heavily exhaling to hide the shudder Ross’ hand tracing his collarbone induced, he lowered a hand to Ross’ head, loosely twining the soft, dark hair between his fingers. Ross sighed, head tipping towards his hand to increase the contact. Silently cursing the man and his ability to stop his brain working, Smith put down his book.

Keeping one hand curled in Ross’ hair, he let his other hand wander over the dark haired man’s back, joining the dots with the freckles on his back. Ross wriggled a little whenever he traced over a more sensitive part of his back, the hand on Smith’s chest twitching slightly.

Cheek resting on Smith’s chest, Ross absently traced patterns onto his bare skin. He quietly wondered when the dynamic in their friendship had changed so dramatically that they could lie in bed together, in boxers, so comfortably.

Looking up at the auburn haired man, Ross met a pair of bright blue eyes. Unwilling to break eye contact, he nervously licked his lips, aware of how close their faces were. Smith’s gaze was almost pulling him in.

Letting his hand wander up to muss the short bristles on Smith’s face, Ross heard him audibly gulp. Smith was leaning a little closer, nose almost brushing his. Knowing what was going to happen, Ross shifted forwards, forehead nearly touching Smith’s. His heart was beating wildly, his stomach in his mouth.

Gently but gracelessly, they collided. Short, sweet and slightly clumsily their lips met, nose’s bashing and teeth clashing. Smith’s hand smoothed along his back as Ross leant forwards more, chasing Smith’s lips.


	17. Bittersweet

“Shove over, mate.” Smith jostled Ross out of the way as he grabbed the toothpaste, squeezing a healthy amount onto his brush and starting to brush, ignoring Ross’ complaint that he should’ve waited his turn for the bathroom.

Despite the complaints, Ross couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as the two of them competed for mirror and sink space, smith only just managing to get the better position. It was nice, he decided, being so casual around Smith, and far easier than having to wait to use the sink in the morning. His smile was slightly bittersweet however. He knew there wasn’t long left before Smith’s parents would leave, and then whatever this was between them would be over.

Once the auburn haired man had finished, he left the room to go and change, the door closing behind him. Ross breathed out a shaky breath, looking at himself in the mirror as he heard the static of Smith switching on the radio next door, the auburn haired man’s soft singing soon reaching his ears.

He couldn’t deny it anymore. The silly grin he’s gotten at the mirror fight was still in place, made even wider by the singing. He was in love with Smith, more than he’d ever been before. His hands hand through his hair absently, pushing against the grain as he scattered his thoughts.

“Ross Hornby.” He looked at his reflection seriously. He always found this comforting, and mind clearing. “You daft bugger, you’re in love with your best friend.”

Ross thought back to his sex ed classes. “I guess that makes me… bi?” He rolled the word around his mouth, glad it seemed to fit him. He didn’t feel uncomfortable declaring himself as such, and it felt so good to be able to put a word to how he was feeling. Ross grinned, trying it out a few times until he was certain he was happy with this revelation.

-=-

Smith grinned, switching on and humming away at the radio as Ross tossed the stirfry with an expert flick of the wrist.

“All of the lights land on you, the rest of the world fades from view.”

He sung softly, swaying through the kitchen towards Ross, resting his hands lightly on his hips and forcing him to sway along too.

“And all of the love I see, please please say you feel it too.”

Twisting in his grip, Ross went to tell him off and found his lips shushed by one of Smith’s fingers.

“And all of the noise I hear inside, restless and loud, unspoken and wild.”

Shit, he hadn’t heard the stuff in the bathroom, had he? No, he couldn’t have had. Smith’d had the radio on, hadn’t he? No, he couldn’t have, he was just singing the song. Get a grip, Ross.

“And all that you need to say, to make it all go away, Is that you feel the same way too…”

There was an earnestness in Smith’s eyes that made Ross’ chest ache as he let go of the saucepan and rested his hands on the edge of the counter top, listening to the soft singing with a grin.

“And I know, the scariest part is letting go, ‘cause love is a ghost you can’t control, I promise you the truth can’t hurt us now.”

His hands brushed against the taller mans, fingers tracing over the guitar worn calluses, rouch bumps next to the smooth heat of his palm.

“So let the words slip out of your mouth…”

“Smith, I…” Ross’ heart rate sped up as he willed his cheeks not to flush, but the smell of burning peppers distracted him.

“I want you to know you’ve wrecked tonight’s dinner. Well done mate.”

-=-

The takeout arrived about an hour later, after a quick discussion over where to go and what to get. Peter had popped out to go and grab it while Ross and Smith finished editing up a video each.

They grabbed the white cardboard containers eagerly, each grabbing one and a fork before jumping in front of the tv. They watched whatever garbage came up as they tucked in, Smith’s parents sitting in the dining room and eating off of china rather than with them.

Ross kept pinching the little button mushrooms out of Smith chow mien, nibbling on them with a grin. In return Smith was grabbing the occasional bean sprout, matching him pretty much veg for veg.

They left the containers on the end of the sofa once they’d done, changing channel to watch the latest episode of Agents of Shield. Smith made the occasional remark as he slowly got absorbed into the episode, relaxing into Ross’ shoulder with a contented sigh.

-=-

Smith shifted uncomfortably, wrapping himself closer to Ross’ heat. The tv was still on, a quiet background mumbling as the adverts scrolled through. 

His back, feet and fingers were frozen, so he shifted into the dark haired man, creeping his hands under the hem of his shirt and pressing his icy extremities to the softness of Ross’ tummy.

The dark haired man shifted in his sleep but didn’t wake, so Smith slid his feet under his calves too, sighing happily at the sudden increase in warmth. Thus satisfied, he grinned happily, kissing the mop of dark hair sloppily and settled back into sleep.


	18. FFS SMITH

The door slammed shut, making Ross jump.

Smith’d taken his parents out for a meal, and by the sounds of it things hadn’t gone well.

He quickly saved the editing he’d done so far, using the time he’d spent away from Smith as a way to catch up with some of the quite frankly enormous workload the two of them had been putting off for the past few weeks.

Closing his laptop carefully, he made his way through to the kitchen. Smith was stood at the sink, staring through the window, breathing heavily. Wordlessly, Ross walked up to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close.

Smith stiffened, the set of his shoulders squaring up a little before he turned, burying his face in the crook between Ross’ shoulder and his neck, breathing in heavily. With a sympathetic hum Ross stroked his back, letting Smith take the comfort he needed from him.

They stood like that for a while, Ross propping Smith up as the taller man hid his face, carding his hands through auburn locks and down his spine until finally Smith relaxed, straightening up and running a hand through his hair.

Without a word, Ross smiled at him. Smith seemed to be at least accepting whatever had happened while he was out, something he was glad for.

-=-

They lay in bed together, watching back-to-back episodes of Game of Thrones. Smith had gotten back mid after noon, and when the last episode in the season finished it’d almost hit four in the morning.

Smith shut the laptop they’d been streaming on quickly, tucking it down the side of the bed and plugging it in to charge before snuggling down into bed, laying next to Ross.

Tucking his arm around Smith, Ross rolled in until they were facing, holding the other man tightly. Smith shuffled forwards, until their faces were millimetres apart, tipping his head to press his soft lips into Ross’ chapped ones.

Ross kissed back softly, letting Smith control the pace as his heartbeat picked up. He was unsure of where this was going, and was still a little awestruck by the whole ‘Smith’s actually kissing me sober’ thing.

As if he’d read his mind, Smith pulled back. “I fucking love you. You know that right?” He didn’t wait for a response, kissing the dark haired man again, this time with more force.

Ross barely had time to respond, instead communicating non-verbally and slipping his hands to rest against Smith’s hips.

It didn’t take long for thing to heat up between them, shedding their clothes until they were pressed against each other in boxers.

Slowly, Ross slid his hand into Smith’s pants, curling his fingers around his erect member and stroking him carefully. When Smith reciprocated, callouses pressing into his dick Ross sighed, kicking off his boxers and pulling Smith’s down too.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” The words had barely left his mouth before the kisses were back, fast, needy and demanding, pulling the air from his lungs as they stroked each other.

“Ross, I need you…”

“What? Like?” He mimed a crude action with his hands, not knowing how to phrase ‘you want me to stick my cock up your arse?’ eloquently,

An easy grin spread over Smith’s face at the gesture he’d first picked up in primary school, seeing the older boys using it and only realizing the connotations a few years later. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I need.”

Smith rolled over, propped up on his knees and grabbed the lube, slicking up his fingers with a well-practiced familiarity. Ross watched with awe in his eyes as the taller man slid one, then two fingers inside of himself, moaning and whimpering needily.

Much too soon he grabbed Ross’ wrist, pulling him up to press close against him, letting the dark haired man rub his erect member greedily against him.

“I’m ready for you…” The need in Smith’s voice was unavoidable, his grip tight, pulling Ross closer and closer.

He nodded, pressing soft kisses to the expanse of bare skin “Alright just pass me the lube-” His voice stuttered out as Smith shook his head urgently.

“It’ll be fine. I need you now, Ross.”

He lined up, pushing into Smith’s tight, delicious heat slowly, eyes closing to relish this moment. “…fuck.” This felt better than he could have imagined, and they’d barely begun.

With a soft moan Ross opened his eyes, looking over the other man to check this was all right. He could see Smith’s back tightening, his hands clenching and stopped his slow intrusion with concern. “You doing all right there?”

“…better than ever.” The ginger was already panting heavily, and with a small whimper pushed back, driving Ross in to the hilt.

“Shit, Smith.” The moan of pleasure was cut short as Smith rocked his hips, pushing and taking as much as he could. It was weird, feeling almost too dry, but Smith knew his body better than Ross did, so he just lost himself to the sensation, fucking into Smith almost brutally and matching him pace for pace.

The bedframe started creaking alarmingly, the headboard setting a steady, fast rhythm as Smith whimpered and moaned, Ross almost as loud. He was just glad Smith had a detached house, else they’d surely get noise complaints.

“I’m, I’m gonna….”

Ross panted, biting Smith’s shoulder in an attempt to keep his orgasm at bay, but the grunts of encouragement were all too much, and he came loudly, biting and kissing the auburn haired mans shoulder as he rocked into him senselessly.

-=-

When he came back to himself, Smith had also collapsed bonelessly onto the bed, except he was shaking.

“Smith?” Ross rolled off the muscular back, pushing ay him and rolling him over. He was wet eyed, ugly heaving breaths racking through his body. “You alright mate?”

“Y-yeah. I’m fine.” Smith grinned charmingly even as the wetness in his eyes spilled over, running in dual tracks down his cheeks. “Just thought you’d be a little better in bed is all.”

All right, he hadn’t been that bad. He was concerned for Smith, cutting straight to the chase. “What’s this really about?” It hadn’t been him, that’s for sure.

“It’s my parents.”

Oh.

Red alerts started flashing in Ross’ mind. This couldn’t be good.

“They’re not coming back. Mum’s disowned me.”

“And that’s what all this is about?”

Smith started at the pillow, picking at a stray thread to keep his gaze from Ross’ “…yeah.”

“You’ve used me to hurt you?!”

Smith nodded shamefacedly, not able to meet Ross’ eyes.

Ross saw red. He’d tried so hard with Smith, to keep him only as a friend. And now, just when he’d thought they had an actual, decent shot to be something more, Smith had used him to hurt him, the only man he’d ever loved.

“That’s fucked up.”

Ross stood, grabbing his trousers and boxers, pulling them up quickly, not even looking at the taller man, trying to contain the anger seething at the man lying so pitifully in bed. “Well, if your parents aren’t coming back, you don’t need me anymore.”

The items on the bedside table were next, house keys and wallet, tucked into back pockets with far more force than was strictly necessary. “I’ve got a key. I’ll pick everything up when you’re out.”

“I meant everything. I do care for you.” The words were mumbled, easy enough to ignore with the anger raging in Ross’ mind.

He blanked him, pulling his phone charger from the wall and shoving it into his pocket, then shrugging on his shirt. “Don’t try to ring me. I won’t respond, and you’d better be in work tomorrow. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do with content.”

Ross grabbed his hoodie, leaving the house quickly, only stopping to grab Oscar and his dog food. He had enough at home to get him by for a few days, and then he could pop by and grab everything of his that had slowly accumulated over at Smith’s.

It was only when he’d driven the car out of sight of the house that he let himself stop moving, pulling into the side of the road and resting his head on the steering wheel. A few tears trickled down, running tracks into the dark leather before he wiped his eyes, driving home and collapsing into bed with a bottle of gin.


	19. Some goodish advice from our favourite walrus

Ross ran into work in the morning, long strides eating up the usual walk until he arrived, panting heavily as he punched the code in and stormed through into the kitchen. A bottle of pop in hand he headed through into the hats’ shared office and settled down into his desk, trying to ignore the headache forming behind his eyes.

He sipped through the bottle of Fanta slowly as he loaded up the latest video he was due to edit, a GTA game they’d played months ago with Sips.

When Trott arrived, maybe half an hour later, he jumped, too absorbed in the work. His keyboard was covered in his drink, but after he held it upside down over the bin for a few minutes to drain off it worked fine again, although the keys were just a little sticky.

He worked his way through their videos quickly, working at almost double the rate he usually would, with an intensity his editing had been lacking for quite some time. By early afternoon he’d finished almost half of his backlog of work, and was actually working on something semi new. He set them up to load onto the channel in batches, automatically privatizing them until Trott could schedule their release one by one.

Once he’d finished Ross headed through to the kitchen, grabbing a mug of tea before moving into the new common room. Sitting opposite Kim, it didn’t take long for a Pokémon match to start.

Glad he’d drawn well, Ross was well onto his way to wining when Smith entered the room. The ginger man was late, but at least he’d come in. Ross was too absorbed in the match to do anything than notice the man’s presence, completely missing the scraggly hair, dark under eyes circles and clothes that looked like they’d been slept in.

Trying to ignore the auburn haired man, Ross continued playing, but his performance went downhill rapidly, leaving Kim to mock him in glee when her bidoof somehow overpowered his empoleon.

Smirking back, he grinned and told her how he’d only let her win to save her feelings. They both knew Ross should’ve won, and he was silently blaming Smith’s presence for his loss.

-=-

When they sat down to record, Ross was gladder than ever for the partitions. At least he didn’t have to see the smug little grin he could hear in Smith’s voice as he trolled him endlessly.

But after maybe fifteen minutes he’d had enough. He couldn’t deal with Smith like this, acting like everything was normal after last night. He didn’t mean to snap, he just did.

Throwing his headset onto the desk he stormed out of the room, walking right out of the office and running round the block a few times before hiding in the editors room.

Matt gave him a few worried looks, but apart from that he was mainly ignored, save for the occasional question on what should be cut from the Flux Baddies montage.

-=-

Two and a half hours later his phone started blowing up. It seemed Trott had taken the opportunity to use the two player split screen mode with Smith alone, so they still had some content.

Ross texted back with where he was, tucking himself further into the corner as he waited.

Trott strode in, small in statue but still clearing the room with a quiet word to the editors. There were a few complaints, but Chris’ tone brooked no nonsense and soon in was just the two of them and a few quietly whirring machines in the background.

He crouched next to Ross, slipping and arm around his and sitting there, giving him the opportunity to speak.

After a while in awkward, stagnant silence, Ross started speaking, telling Trott everything. After the first few, stuttered words it started spilling out, like a flood had broken somewhere in him, the whole tale spilling out.

The drunken kisses, the bed sharing, thinking that Smith thought of his in the same way. He held nothing back, and despite the pain on Trott’s face told him about the events of last night, his words sharp with every bit of pain the auburn haired man had caused him, accidently or not.

When he’d finished retelling the past month of his life, he had tears trickling down his face. Reaching out blindly, he buried his face in Trott’s shoulder, letting out a whimper.

To his credit Trott let him soak his shirt and cry himself out before pulling back, ruffling his hair comfortingly and propping him up.

Trott’s phone buzzed in his pocket, prompting him to sigh and stand up. “Look, I need to go and do high rollers now, but you two need to talk this over.”

He turned at the door, looking back at the man huddled in the corner compassionately.

“We’ve worked so hard to be where we are now Ross. Don’t throw it all away for all of us now.”


	20. Keep it together guys

It took two weeks before Ross would risk recording with Smith again. They’d had to do a few schedule reshuffles to split the two men up and still keep regular videos going out.

Fortunately the office had come down with a bug, meaning the strangeness between the two of them was avoided, people were recording with whoever was in at the time to keep content production up, even dragging slightly reluctant editors and artists into the streaming room to fill the quota they needed.

There were a few people who’d figured out there was something going on with the hats. Kim and Matt were clued in, although they didn’t know what exactly the issue was, they did there best to keep the three of them functioning and making content.

For the first few days Kim dragged Smith and Trott into playing a four player game with her and Matt, and then switching Smith with Ross and getting a good few hours of raw content out, for ‘her’ channel, to cover her while she went on holiday.

Ross had almost cried when a memory stick had appeared on his desk a few hours later with neatly edited videos, compressing the hours of gaming into four or five snappily edited ‘best bits’ along with a bar of kinder.

-=-

When they finally got to recording together it took a good hour of warm up to begin getting banter to flow.

Smith was talking carefully, not wanting to set Ross off again, while Trott was keeping a steady flow of chatter to fill any awkwardness. Eventually though, Trott started to relax, and Ross did too, until he was talking to Smith almost normally again. There was a level of wariness between them, keeping the teasing low, but it was better than nothing.

-=-

It got back to normal quickly, the office recovered from the illness that had struck them all down, Smith and Ross were back on casual speaking terms. Duncan stopped dying from his cold. Kim got back from Spain.

They still all went to the pub together, but Smith sat on the opposite end of the bar from Ross now. They avoided drinking casually together too, and Ross started to miss things.

He still got a ghost of an arm around his waist when Smith moved past him, could swear that he’d tapped Smith’s butt as he walked past, but if he has, the ginger made no reaction too it.

-=-

They were sat playing snake oil. Smith hair was falling out of the get he’d used to slick it up. Before, he would reach forwards and push Smith’s hair out of his eyes for the umpteenth time, but it was like a wall between them. Touch was just something they couldn’t risk anymore.

He started running when this itch got too irritating, using that as his coping mechanism, driving himself to the edge to exhaustion so he could fall asleep without thinking about a pair of impossibly blue grey eyes.

Needless to say he got fit pretty quickly.

-=-

It was the forth time that day Smith’s eyes snapped to his while Ross’d been watching him absently. Standing, the taller man walked out of the room, giving Ross a clear signal to follow him.

Smith paused in the corridor. “Ross. We need to talk.”

Panic crossed Ross’ face, before he forced his features into a more neutral expression, licking his lips nervously. “I have no idea what you mean…”

Wordlessly, Smith held the door to an empty office open. Ross walked in, despite his misgivings.


	21. :DDD

Ross slumped in the nearest desk chair, looking at Smith expectantly.

“I need to say something to you Ross.”

“So you’ve said.” He was being snarky. It was the first time they’d really been alone together since last month.

“Just… let me say this, alright?”

“Go for it.” He tried to tone it down, he really did, but sometimes he needed to keep his walls up. Sometimes, they were there for a reason.

Smith took a deep breath, before letting the words that need to be said out, raw and open to the man he was stood opposite to. “I’m sorry. I - I put you in a position I never should have. I was selfish and mean and I used you to hurt me.” His voice stuttered, catching slightly. “I probably hurt you at the same time.”

“Scratch that, I definitely hurt you at the same time.” The look of guilty was heavy on Smith’s face, making him drop his gaze. He was being open with Ross, opening himself up, and Ross could tell just how much it was costing the auburn haired man.

“What I’m trying to say is, it’s not fair for me to expect you to still see me the same. I get that, honestly I do, but I want to try and be your friend again. I want to make all of this up to you. You did so much for me.”

“You put up with me for basically a month, non stop. Hell, you pretended to love me just to protect me from my mum, and I ruined it right at the end because I was selfish.” 

Smith dropped his gaze to stare at Ross’ feet instead, and Ross pretended not to see the slow trickle of a tear down the side of his nose.

The silence swelled up, stagnant and full of what Ross longed to say, but didn’t have the guts to. He swallowed slowly, before looking Smith in the eye. “I’m going to say one thing. I don’t want you to bring it up – not even as a joke - once I leave this room.”

He waited for the auburn haired man to nod before he spoke.

“I was never pretending.”

Ross stood quickly, wiping at his eyes as he headed for the door. He grabbed the doorknob, starting to turn the cold metal when Smith grabbed his hand, pulling him away.

“Can I bring that sentence up now, before you leave?”

Ross tried to ignore the fact that this was the first time they’d touched in a month.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Smith was insistent, tipping his chin up with two fingers and looking at him imploringly. “What if there is?”

The dark haired man shook his head, praying his cheeks hadn’t gone as red as they felt like they were. He just hoped that the patchy beard growing in would hide it.

“You, you really don’t know…?” Smith huffed out with a breathy laugh, teeth catching his lower lip slightly. “Ross, mate, I like you.” He ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it back. “I mean like, really like you.”

Ross laughed nervously, unconsciously copying Smith’s body language. “And you couldn’t have just told me earlier?”

The taller man gave a little shrug and an apologetic grin. “I didn’t know you swung that way. It seemed better to keep it to myself.”

Ross nodded with slight confusion. He’d made it pretty obvious to Smith he’d liked him over the past few weeks, although no doubt he’d thought it was all an act for his parents. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you known?” Ross pulled back reluctantly, Smith’s fingers dropping from his chin as he moved.

Smith sighed, pulling on the bottom of his shirt as he thought. “Jeez, probably since… remember when Trott introduced us?”

“You mean back in uni?” Ross shot him a quizzical glance.

“Yeah. That’s when I knew. I mean, you sounded pretty damn awesome from the way he spoke about you, but then when I met you…” Smith shrugged carelessly, trying to play it off as no big deal. “It was just… I was gone.”

“Fuckin’ hell mate. This would have been a whole lot easier if you’d told me back then.”

“…you make it sound like you’re in the same boat.” Smith hands were back again, prodding Ross into reluctant eye contact.

“…Smith.”

The auburn haired man shook his head in disbelief. “You’re fucking kidding me…”

“Nope.” Ross sighed, taking Smith’s hand with his own and squeezing it softly.

“Since uni? Christ…” Smith made a few mental calculations, looking down at Ross in disbelief. “That’s what, eight years?”

“More or less.” He shrugged, not really bothering with the maths. However long it’d been, this conversation was evidently long overdue.

“Fucking ridiculous. That’s what we are. I swear to god.”

Smith laughed again, pulling Ross into a hug, not seeming to notice when his shoulder almost collided with the side of his nose. The laughter was infection, pulling a chuckle out of Ross until the two of them were clutching each other, dangerously close to an unstoppable giggle fit.

As the two of them wound down from the laughter they avoided eye contact, in case one of the set the other off again. Once they were both relatively back to normal, Smith pulled back, resting his forehead against Ross’

“Hey, can I kiss you now?”

Ross grinned coyly, letting his fingers brush through the hair at the nape of Smith’s neck. “You don’t have to ask.”

The taller man winked cheekily, grin barely held in check. “Yeah, but it’s nice to know that I can.”

And with that he closed the inches between them, pressing his lips carefully to Ross’ chapped ones.

-=-

It was a good time later that they pulled apart for the last time, although Ross could have easily spent the rest of the day like that. Running a hand through his hair, making sure it was presentable after all the tugging Smith was so fond of, he grinned at the man in question.

“You know we’re gonna have to tell Trott about this now, don’t you?”

Smith snickered, gritting his teeth in jest. “Insufferable twat probably already guessed. Wait till we go back in there. I bet you a tenner he’s gonna have a smug little grin on his face.”

**Author's Note:**

> This took a while to write, but I'm finally happy with it. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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